


Broken Tool

by uddelhexe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel (Supernatural) Whump, Coda, Dean gets his shit together, Dean suffers seing Cas like that, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied Destiel at this point, Sam is understanding, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Reflection, Suicide Attempt, Whump, castiel has depression, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2019-07-06 21:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15894678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uddelhexe/pseuds/uddelhexe
Summary: Dean had forgiven Castiel for taking in Purgatory...but why had he taken the angel tablet after Naomi's control was broken? And now the tablet was gone for good…in the hands of demons…and Castiel barely got out of Crowley’s grip after being shot by the Kind of hell.Dean is furious. Why does Castiel always go away to try to fix things al alone instead of trusting the brothers?Sam can only watch the friends fight in arguments over their points of view…and then Cas gives up…





	1. No happy place

**Author's Note:**

> Warning:  
> Character is self-loathing and there is attempt of suicide in this. Who cannot handle that…should not read.  
> I was so angry sometimes that Dean cannot just take Cas and give him a hug instead of throwing his hurt feelings onto his already broken soul. I also think Castiel showed severe signs of depression during the show.  
> I had to bring these feelings down so that Cas can get them out too.

** The broken Tool **

 

Sam would have given nearly anything to stop Castiel and his brother arguing. But it seemed his wish would remain unfulfilled…

"Yeah? And all that upsets you is that a beloved "friend" didn't trust you? Do you even believe this yourself?" Castiel threw at Dean harshly. His former sad and quiet voices had started to change it's color in a way the angel only rarely had used before.

"What? No, you know what? Get it out of your system! We all would love to hear what really upsets me!" Dean's already pissed voice raised up a little more and a sarcastic tone mixed in his speaking.

„YOU know what, Dean? I'm so tired of this! You keep telling yourself that you're disappointed of a friend, but in fact you're disappointed about your disobeying "pet-angel"!”

 _Wow_ , Sam thought. That was a punch right in the gut.

"How dare you, Castiel?" Dean brought out between his gritted teeth. His fists were tightening.

Sam watched the friends arguing. He didn't like this situation and he absolutely didn't want to get it worse. He was relieved that Cas was back after that angel-tablet mess, and after being shot by Crowley and now finally safe in the bunker. He didn't think a second, that Castiel did, what he did because he mistrusted them in general. In some way he even could understand the angel.

He had to stop his brother from saying things, actually both of them, which they might regret minutes later for sure.

"Cas, we never thought of you in such a way. You can't seriously believe that!” Sam tried.

"Sam, I know YOU might be different, but Dean isn't."

And facing Dean he continued: „You are no different from Naomi or Crowley in the way you treat me! For all of you, heaven, hell, humanity…I'm just a tool in one or another way. But you know what? Naomi at least needed a literal tool to dig in my head and mess up with my thoughts and feelings. You in the contrary manage to do so with your sheer words! And how is that not proof that i was the right about what I just said?"

Despite the fact that Cas was jelling at Dean…Sam felt a hole inside his own chest by the words of their angelic friend. How could Cas even feel like this? Didn’t they tell him often enough that he was family? He tried to think about it but was interrupted by his brother.

"If I wouldn't break my hand by the attempt to punch you straight in the face, I'd dig your nose into your skull with pleasure at this very moment! I TRUSTED you and spoke for you more often than you deserved it! After you did the deal with Crowley! After you ate damn purgatory! After all the many times you went out for yourself to do your business on your own without telling anybody! But now: your foolish and self-righteous behavior again managed to give a win to the enemy because now they have the damn angel tablet and do God- knows- what with it!"

"And if they'd kill all angels with it…What would it bother you anyway? We're just "dicks with wings" aren't we? Not to be trusted? Not worth a thing?"

"Guys!" Sam tried to interrupt once more but Dean just stomped his way towards Castiel, grabbed him by the gruff of his neck and pulled him closer to his face abrasively. Both men looked at each other with nothing but wrath and emotional disgust. Both faces were headed up from the yelling.

When Sam stood up to go in between he realized Castiel’s shirt was growing a red color at the position of his fresh but obviously not completely healed shot wound again. Apparently it had started bleeding again. Dean didn't seem to see it…or he simply didn't care. The older hunter shook the angel again who twitched his eyes as if in pain but didn't mention anything.

"You better let me go, Dean!"

"Or fucking what? Will you punch me again? Like you did in this cave? Like you did when Naomi told you to?"

"This wasn't Cas's fold and you know that, Dean!" Sam bursted out in shock. Was Dean losing his last piece of common sense in that matter? He knew Castiel had been tortured and mind-washed. How could he say something like that!

Well…actually Sam had a very good idea about the why: because what Castiel did…what he just said about how Dean would treat him: it hurt the older Winchester deep to his core! Couldn't Cas see it? Dean’s rage was born in dispair. He only got angry with people he cared about. A lot.

But Castiel seemed too angry to realize it…or too hurt. He just said blankly: "I knew it was a lie when you told me you’d understand. That you knew that I wasn't me! Again you’re just angry the “tool” was working for someone else, eh? And after I awoke: I didn't fetch my master the tablet so that he can do as he pleases with it? Because only Dean Winchester knows what's best for the world?" Castiel seemed exhausted. Sam never had seen the angel being like that. It was more than just the situation. It seemed as if all emotions that Castiel always had hidden inside himself. All the rage, the frustration, the feelings of being alone, of being used…had burst out like the explosion of hot water out of a gysyer and after that had burned his husk dry of energy. And like the hot water the words had burn things down that should not be burned!

"The both of you **STOP NOW**!" Sam shouted putting a hand on the shoulder of each fighter. Dean stopped moving towards the angel. Castiel simply remained in his position.

"Let go of Cas, Dean. Please!"

Dean let go. But it was clear as blue that it only was because he didn't want to bother Sam further who appeared even more tired than before because of these damn trials he was going trough. And with a calmer voice Dean said: "A true friend would not go away and turn the back on his family while one of his chosen brothers is going through something like these trials. We could have needed you! Sam had needed you! YOU were the one who let US down. Like you always do. Just vanish and do your own thing."

Sam noticed something more in their faces. Moisture was crawling up in the corner of their eyes. Not only Dean's but also Castiel's. The younger hunter couldn’t guess if it was only because of the anger or because of all the pain both of them felt inside. Someone had to say something to stitch the situation together again. To regain a healing process to this current fragile friendship.

Castiel cleared his throat: "You're right, Dean."

And with these words, spoken in a hoarse, broken voice the angel was gone. Sam tried to catch him but he was too slow and nearly struggled in the attempt of doing so. He couldn't believe what just happened!

"I knew it." Dean spit out and turned back to the table.

"That's it? Dean! Call him, Pray to him…whatever you do to speak with him. But just do it!"

"He had his chance. And again he decided to vanish! And we don't have time for this. You only will get better if we find more about how to finish the last trial. So we don't have time for nursing Cas's feelings."

"You acted like a dick, you know that? Right?"

"Me? What's up with you lately?"

"He did mean well with what he did! You know that! You didn't have to be so hard on him!"

"Why should I forgive him that easy? Again?"

Sam simply looked at his dumbass brother. Because Cas was family.

"Because it's Cas."

 

* * *

 

Castiel didn't know where to go. His head felt empty right at the moment. He knew he did the right thing! The angel tablet wasn't meant for the angels. And it wasn't meant for Dean’s willing either. What if he had handed the tablet to Dean and Sam? What would they have done? Give it to the Prophet? Find weapons to fight his brethren better? Shut heaven so angels could not go out any more just like they planned to do with hell?

He didn't know but he knew that he didn't want the tablet to be used.

And now the demons had it. The angel tablet…the manual for the children of god in the hands of filthy demons. And it all was his fault. He had failed. Again. And for everything that happened from now on: he had to burden it on his shoulders as well as all the other misery he had brought over the world and heaven.

The energy outburst that had given him the strength to stand against Dean completly disappeared and only left his broken shell. He sensed a wet and warm sensation above his abdomen. When his hand touched it he felt blood soaking trough the shirt. In the moment he looked down he realized the pain again. The wound had reopened and hurt. Little fizzles of grace dropped out of the wound and vanished into the air.

He felt like the pain was something to hold on. Like he deserved to feel like that.

And he felt tired. Mentaly, emotionally and physically. When he looked around he realized that he just had landed in a field close to Bobbie’s old house. Sadness settled down on his mind when he thought of the times when Bobby was still alive. At least the older hunter had been able to beat some sense into Dean Winchester. At least he had been able to get through to him most of the time. Castiel remembered some moments of feeling enclosure into a group like he did with his old garrison and with the host in heaven.

But as well he remembered himself sneaking inside the house, invisible for the Winchesters and the old drunk, spying on them. Betraying them. Dean speaking up for him…while he was right beside him knowing that he would fail the older brother again.

He felt sick in a way he’d never experienced before. Like a mental nausea that wanted him to throw out all the bad emotions and the self-loathing, the guilt and the loneliness. The feeling grumbled itself right insight his inner organs and started to nest in there.

He had to get rid of it.

Get rid of the feeling and get rid of the mistakes he made.

Get rid of the memories of Dean’s face full of loath and hate for him.

Castiel didn't recognize his hand was searching for the sharp blade hidden in his sleeve. He was staring blankly at the junk-yard with the old cars still in place. Grown over with more plants than before. He didn't realize the pain that was warning him to stop doing what he did.

He just wanted it to be quiet inside. He wanted the voice, that was telling him how foolish he was, what a traitor and looser, to be out.

He felt somehow dull.

His knee touched the ground. Then the other. Why was that so? His sight began to blur. It was as if the Yard was jumping back and forth just for his amusement. Or was he jumping? His head felt like jumping. The voice inside began to faint. Finally. He didn't know why,but he didn't care either.

He couldn't go back to heaven. It wasn't his home any more. He couldn't get back to the bunker either. He had no family. No friends left. Sam perhaps. He had spoken up for him. He thought that the young hunter would understand. But he wouldn't let Sam loose energy on trying to stop his brother from being a dick. Sam would need everything to go through these trials. And he had enough fights with Dean. Castiel didn't want to be the cause of trouble between the brothers.

He didn't want to be the cause of trouble for anyone. He just had wanted to help.

Little spots began to dance in his sight. He felt like less caring about everything every second. That felt good somehow. Like this one time he became aware, that God didn't want to be found. When he went on his first bender to drink himself over the feeling of being left behind. Left alone.

His sentiment was similar now. Somehow he began to smile a bit. Then he raised his hand and saw the angel blade in it. Covered in blood.

Well, that was strange.

Blood? Why? He didn't know. He didn't care. The Blade slid out of his hand. Something inside his head told him to raise his grace for something. Healing? Feelings couldn't be healed and so he did nothing. Ignored the warning of his body, both the vessel and the true form. What did they both want anyway?

He stood up and began to walk towards the remains of the house. He didn't know what he was searching for. But to have a direction was helpful, though.

Behind him the grass got wet of the deep red drops falling down from the angel. He was leaving a red trace leading from the spot he had landed to Bobbie’s old address. His tan trenchcoat began to change it's color from a beige tone to a reddish and so did his shirt. So did the rest of his suit.

He forgot why he was here. What he wanted to do. What the fuck he was feeling so bad about again? He’d lost it. It all was sucked into a welcome darkness growing at his outer sight.

Was he even walking anymore?

Who cared.

 

* * *

 

After they had watched the Men of letters film about healing their attempts of healing a demon, they switched the light on again. So this was it. That was something new.

"We have to go find this priest." Dean simply said. Sam was eager to find more about this new sort of exorcism. This could really finally be it. They really could need some backup.

"We should call Cas."

"The hell we do. We go alone. I'd rather go with you smashed up as you are than with Cas."

"You don't mean that."

"Believe it, Sammy."

Sam sighed. It was useless to speak with his brother in this current mood. And he was not in the condition to fight him. They started to search for the whereabouts of the former young priest, they had been seeing on the video. Sam secretly started his program to trace Cas's GPS data.

He hoped the angel didn't switch it off again like he did, when he was on the run from heaven with the tablet. He seemed to be lucky. But the location surprised Sam. He checked twice but it was clear: The phone was in Sioux falls. Why would Castiel head there? He knew nobody there.

Sam zoomed in the map and stopped breathing for a moment. What the hell….?

Again he typed on his board to check the last log in’s and was alarmed. The phone hadn’t moved for hours. Not a bit.

Cas either had dropped it for not to be found by the brothers or worse. He couldn't tell Dean about this in his mental state. He wouldn't listen anyway and he because of that he neither had told his brother about his concerns about Castiel’s health condition too. He didn't want to see his brother making bad decisions with all the knowledge and later regret what he did.

But what could he do to check? He remembered Jody. She was close! It was her district. Perhaps she could help and just have a look. He would feel way better if he knew, Cas was ok.

He went to his room and carefully checked that Dean wasn't nearby. He dialed Jody's number.

"Hey, Judy. This is Sam. Yes I'm fine. No, Dean is in the library. Jody? You could do me a favor, couldn't you?" A short pause. "It is about a friend of ours. Castiel. Yes, the angel. He and Dean just…well…they had a little fight. No. Not that kind. Dean's ok. They were just arguing, but Castiel was injured before…no I'll tell you later…and I'm worried about his condition and tracked his phone out at Bobbies old house and just thought: could you have a look if he is ok? The phone didn’t move for hours."

Jody told him that she would drive out to the address immediately. Sam thanked her for everything and told her to call him back about what she found out. Just the moment he ended the conversation Dean poked his head inside the room.

"Who did you talk to?"

"Advertising call. I told them we don't need anything changed with the phone."

"You' didn't talk to Cas, did you?"

Well…finally Sam could be honest about this point and looked his brother straight in the eyes:

"I didn't. But I will do later, Dean. I don’t care what you say. He’s my friend too."

The older hunter just growled something Sam couldn't understand but didn't fight his younger brother. Sam smiled. Now he was sure that Dean wanted to be in peace with Cas again and that he simply could not bring himself to do the first step and he didn't have to, because he now knew Sam would take care of it. They would be able to fix this.

 

* * *

 

Jody Mills couldn't say that she wasn't a bit nervous. She yet met the hell a lot of monsters to the present days, way more she ever had wanted to, but she didn't know what to expect from an actual angel. She knew he hadn't actual wings, halo and harp and also wasn't that little diaper wearing fellow kind, but what to really expect she didn't know.

 _Just a regular guy? In a tan trenchcoat and a suit?_ Sam had described Castiel and for there should be no other person on Bobbie’s old ground…it should be easy enough to find him, if he still was there anyway.

She parked her police car in front of the old garage of Bobbie's that was close to falling apart within the next month. Nobody was taking care of what was left here. She felt a knot inside her stomach. He had been a good guy. And after she knew what he was doing and what had been the reason for his weird behavior and why he never had tried to be more part of the townspeople…she did understand him and admired his bravery. She knew by herself too well how hard this life was. Loosing beloved to some creature…seeing all these things. Even worse was: knowing there was so much more out there she didn't know or see.

She walked around the house and searched the yard for a sign of a living person. Perhaps he didn't want to be seen? But Sam seemed seriously worried about his friend. She would have to search more carefully.

"Castiel? This is Sherriff Jody Mills. I'm a friend of Sam Winchester. He was worried about you and wanted me to check on you. Are you here?"

She felt a bit silly doing this. But somehow her police-sense told her not to stop searching too early. Something was around here. She just could feel it.

"Castiel, seriously. Sam will freak out if I don't tell him you're fine. You know him! Just show yourself and I can tell him you're ok and after that I let you alone if you want to be. Ok?"

Nothing.

She had an idea. She climbed on top of a pile of cars that seemed stable enough to hold her and high enough to oversee the area a bit more. When she was on top she turned around and put her hand above her eyes to shield them from the sun. In the next moment she stopped turning and hissed: "Shit!"

She started to climb down the car-tower and started to head into the field around the Yard. She reached the man who was lying on the ground in seconds and kneeled down beside him. He was lying face down on the earth and didn't move. She felt his pulse and instantly switched into her professional emergency mode:

"Sir, Sir! Castiel! Are you awake? Can you hear me?"

His heart was beating, but the pulse felt way too weak. His breath was flat and his skin appeared way too cold. Was that normal for an angel? She had no clue!

She started to slowly turn the man around and he still didn't respond to her speaking or touch. His skin was pale and his eyes were closed. She held her breath for a second when she saw the amount of blood under him and soaked in his clothes. She looked the trace of blood going meters into the field. How far did he walk with that?

She also saw a light blue glimmer emerging from the wound that she considered to be his angelic life essence. Dean and Sam had called it grace. She put her jacket of and pushed it on the wound. It still was bleeding way too much. Shouldn't he be healing or something? She was sure that the brothers had told her about that angels could heal wounds like nothing on themselves.

Should she call an ambulance? Would that help? She fumbled for her phone and dialed Sam's number. The young hunter was on right away: "Jody! Good to hear from you! Did you find something?"

"Sam, I need help! He's unconscious, he has a bad wound at his abdomen and he is bleeding like hell. He already lost a lot of blood! I even can’t believe he is still alive like that. What shall I do?"

"What? He wasn't in that bad shape when he left us. You see if the wound is healing?"

"I don't think so. And his pulse is weak and he's already beginning to cool down because of blood loss. I think he's in shock! Shall I call an ambulance?"

"Damn it. I don't know. I…," Sam stuttered unsure what to do.

"Sam, I have to do something! Now! If you don't know, I just do my job and do what I'd do if he wasn't any celestial being. Ok? And you and your brother swing your asses up here!"

Sam trusted Jody and her judgement of the situation.

"Stay with him! If anything goes sideways…he is spontaneously healing or flies away or begins to glow or whatsoever: you do what you can to cover. We're on your way!"

"Alright."

She dropped the phone and grabbed for her walkie-talki: “Here's Jody Mills. I found an heavy injured manly person on the old car-junkard. Appears like puncture wound, big blood loss and he's already in shock. I give you the address. Send for the ambulance and tell them to hurry!"

She gave them Bobby's address and went on with giving pressure to the wound of Castiel's stomach.

"Castiel, hold on! Help is on the way. What the hell did happen to you?”

She didn't know what she’d expect here, but sure as hell it wasn't an angel of the lord bleeding out on the ground in front of her.

 

* * *

 

When the ambulance arrived she waved them to find her position and when they started to take care of the situation she stood up and sighed. While they were looking for the wound, putting needles and medic inside his body and raising an oxygen mask over his face, Jody used the time to follow the blood trace. It went for more than 30 meters an abruptly ended in a big bloody spot on the earth. Something shiny was lying in the grass beside. When she picked it up with a tissue around it she saw it was a long knife with a crossed blade. It was silver and bloody all over.

She didn't see signs of a fight anywhere. It appeared as if the angel just had swooshed in here, got stabbed and then had walked towards the house.

Like she would do with any other evidence she carefully took it to her car. The paramedics already were pushing the angel inside the ambulance car.

"How is he?"

"Not good. You 're right about the shock. The blood loss is immense. He has a deep wound and we have to take him to surgery immediately."

"I'll follow you. If he wakes up, stop at once and let me inside the car."

"Is he dangerous?"

"I don't think so. But I have to interrogate him as fast as possible so that the person who did this to him can't get to far away," she lied.

The young man nodded and they all started. With the horns going loud and the lights flashing the ambulance rushed down the road in direction to the next hospital. Jody got her debuty on the radio.

"I need someone to pick up some evidence I brought from the crime scene."

"Is it a case?"

"I don't know yet. Meet me at the hospital"

Down in the Entrance hall she transfered the Dagger or the blade or whatever it was to her Deputy and instructed him to take the prints of it. She had a bad feeling about this. Why would an aggressor drop his weapon if the victim was hurt so badly and why didn't she find any evidence of a fight?

She settled down in the waiting area. She had to wait until the surgery was done. By this time the Winchesters should be here already. It was less than six hours from Lebanon to Sioux falls.

 

* * *

 

The engine of the impala roared with an immense sound when Dean forced it over every sane speed limit. He was angry. He was mad. So mad about Castiel. How could that bastard dare to diverte them from the trials? How could he?

He was also mad at Sam who hadn't told him that he had traced the phone and talked to Jody.

"Dude, will you stop being so grumpy? I told you I didn't want to bother you before I had more information."

"Yeah. Thanks. It's not your fault that this dick didn't tell us about his condition and then vanished for nothing and then didn't call for help."

"He didn't vanish for nothing. Even I’d think you wanted him to leave for good. Why would he want to stay after what you said to him and after you heard what he thinks of us?"

"That ain't my fault"

"It isn't?"

"Don't…don't let's fight about this, ok? Not now! We lose all this time for checking on Cas now. Time we don't have and need for other things."

"Stop saying that as if worrying for Cas was just some itchy burden! He's family! I know you're feeling bad about how the two of you broke. It is hard for all of us to find the right things to do. Don't judge so hard. Not on you. And not on him. And give yourself the chance to be worried. He's our friend! He broke you out of hell…went with you through purgatory. He was killed more than once for us."

Dean didn't say a word and just grinded with his pine. He was crazy worried about his brother. And he was fucking worried about this feathered dick too. But he wouldn’t tell Sam that.

 

* * *

 

They arrived at the hospital in way under six hours and reached the waiting zone where Jody still was sitting.

"You should have looked out for him, boys." Jody said sadly. Then she raised and gave every brother a tight hug.

"He still is in surgery."

"What? It’s been hours now!"

"The wound was deep and wide and actually…it seemed like several different wounds. Some inner organs were damaged. Look here." She handed Dean the Trenchcoat. It was more than half soaked in blood. Dean's stomach began to turn around. It was not that he'd never seen so much blood, but how could that’ve happened? Even when they found him in the first place, lying on that road, he didn't lose so much and the wound didn't seem so big to cause such a loss.

The brothers looked at each other confused.

"And there is more. I followed back a blood trace to a spot which appeared to be the point he landed on and found a silver dagger."

"Like this one?" Sam asked and pulled out the angel-blade he was carrying. Judy raised her brows.

"Exactly like that. It was dropped on the floor with blood on it. And something else: I got my deputy to look for fingerprints and there were prints on it…but only of one person. And I didn't find any sign of a fight out there. Not on Castiel, not in the field. Beside his wound… there is nothing pointing to a second person…but the blade definitely caused a big part of the wound…or at least it's expanse."

Nobody said anything. Dean's head was whirling around. His mind tried to pick the pieces together but somehow refused to make the final step. Why should anybody find Castiel near Bobbie’s, stab him and then leave the weapon? And why shouldn't Cas fight back? Had he been too weak to do so? Sam and Jody watched him getting through this. The two gave each other a glance because they already knew.

"Dean. I know you are looking for a possibility how a fight could have caused this. And I've no idea what the relationship between you and Castiel is about…but you have to come to terms with that there wasn't another person on that field. There only was one person and this person didn't want be rescued."

"No."

Why would Cas do this? This was ridiculous.

A door opened and a doctor, looking bloody and hell tired walked towards the group.

"Sheriff. You're here for the stab-victim?"

Dean couldn't be quite any more: "His name is Castiel…Winchester. He is our brother. Sheriff Mills found out about us in his purse and immediately called us. How is he?"

"For the moment: stable. We were able to take care of most of the damage, but the blood loss was immense. I don’t lie to you…this was close. An hour later and it would have been too late. He still is not completely out of the woods. Good that you went out there, Sheriff."

"Had a tip for some kids on the old Singer ground. Wanted to chase them away from the old shabby building before they get hurt."

"Can we go, visit him?" Sam asked.

"I think you should wait for him to be awake. There's nothing you can do about him right now."

"The hell there is. I want to see him!" Dean brought out under his breath. A slight nod from Jody and the Doctor gave free the way.

"Room 122. But I have to ask this question for the further procedure: Are there any problems with depression in your family. With your brother? Attempts of self-harm?"

Sam gulped. "Why would you ask that?"

"Because of his injuries. There was a Dagger involved I heard and it could clearly be seen. This wasn't exactly a stab wound your brother received. It was more like the dagger was budged around in the flesh to generate the maximum damage to the skin and inner organs. And the angle of the weapon by doing so was not like it was held by a second person."

The doctor showed them with a pencil what he just explained and Deans heart dropped.

“I don’t have to tell you about how painful that must have been and still he was able to do it to himself. I will advise a psychological treatment and he will be transferred into a mental hospital for his own sake after he recovered from his wounds properly. His actions show a severe mental condition that must be taken care of, or the next time he might not survive this.”

Dean’s knees were about to give away. His hands began to shake by the thought of losing Castiel again.

How could he not have seen in what mental condition Castiel had been when he spoke to him? He remembered when once before Castiel had sat in front of him, on the other bed back in that hotel, after he came back from purgatory and when Dean wanted him to go to heaven to sneak around and Castiel completely had freaked out. How the angel had sat there…right in front of him and had told him that he might kill himself if he would have to see what he did to heaven.

He never had mentioned this again, and Dean had never asked again.

He should have.

Since when was Cas in that bad shape? Since when did he fight with such feelings? Why did he never talk about it to them? Why didn't he ask for help, that dumbass?

Or did he and they just weren't able to see?


	2. Two kinds of love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Depression is a bitch.   
> It tells you you're nothing. It tries to convince you that you are safe in the dark place. That no harm can come to you...but it is a lie.
> 
> Dean visits Cas in his room. There are some flashbacks. Cas want's to do as the bitch tells him: stay alone in the dark. But will Dean have this? Will Dean leave? Let's see!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much comfort in this one, but it will begin in the next chaper. I first had to have a closer look what is inside their heads. 
> 
> Also to create more understanding for Dean's rage. People with depression often tend to forget ( I know that from myself and also from other patiens I met) what a horror it is for the relatives and the people who love you, see you suffer and not to be able to do something. That is hard and can destroy said persons piece by piece. 
> 
> That is no fight of who suffers more...we all do.   
> But a process of healing can only start if you really find out where the origin of the "bitch" is and when you begin to fight activly to go away from the false "safe house" inside of you. 
> 
> Cas doesn't see that yet. Let's help him to do so in the next chapters!

** Chapter Two **

 

“Dean, what’s wrong? Sam asked perceptively.

The older Winchester had stopped moving in front of the door of room 122. He just had frozen and hadn’t twitched for more than a minute. Sam had waited beside his brother. He had an idea what was going around inside the other man at that very moment. He knew that Dean never had been the kind of talking guy. Not when it was about his feelings. But they had been together his whole life and he knew him better than anybody.

Maybe the only other person knowing his brother as good as he did was on the other side of that door. A person his brother cared very much about. And only because this caring was vis versa Dean was hurt worse than anything by any action of said person that implied he wasn’t trusted.

And also when Castiel had told Dean and Sam that he still felt like being treated as a “tool” it surely had hurt Dean way more than the hunter ever would be able to admit.

But exactly that was the problem with the two men. Well…the man and the stoic angel. They both were damn screw ups when it came to talk about emotions. Dean because he was taught not to do such girly-shit by a broken father and Castiel, because angels never were meant to feel much anyway. Sam wasn’t even sure if Castiel was really able to sort out what was going on with him without help of people who had experienced emotions that strong all their life.

At a very early stage in his growing friendship with the angel Sam had began to notice that the more Castiel became weak like a human or was in a lot of interaction with them, he began to show very different und unknown sides of his personality. Maybe these parts always had been there, but had been hidden by his angelic-soldier-drill or something like that. The more Cas was close to his charges, the more he was adapted in behaving and seeing things the human way, the more he revealed, that in fact he seemed to be a very sensitive character. Full of heart and caring for others. Filled up with faith for the love of his father and with love for his father’s creation. Whatever Castiel did, he did it with the most devotion.

Perhaps that was the reason he got himself so deep into vulnerability for anything the Winchtester’s did or thought of him. And the bigger part of his devotion was reserved for the human who’s very soul he had touched when rising him from the pit. The profound bound that Castiel and Dean shared not only made their friendship (or whatever that was they shared) not only stronger, but both of them more open for hurt on each other.

Maybe at some point on their way Castiel had developed some need for affection…for belonging. And as much as Sam loved his brother…Dean had somehow sucked in showing the angel enough to understand that he meant the hell a lot to him.

Perhaps it was because Cas was new to all this. Perhaps Cas needed more to be convinced that they had not really been angry with him only for having secrets but majorly because they had been worried as hell about his wellbeing.

Sam sighed. He should try to talk to his brother at some point about all this to be sure that what he thought was right. But right now the most important thing to do was to courage Dean to go inside that room and face the situation.

“Dean. We can come back tomorrow. The doctor said that Cas wasn’t awake anyway. Perhaps we all nee a bit rest at first.”

“No!” Dean barked. Sam wasn’t offended.

“I’m still mad, you know? Why am I still mad at him. Gosh…I have the feeling I am even worse than I was when he left the bunker.”

“I know, Dean.”

“How could he do this to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“It wasn’t my fault, Sammy. It wasn’t. I didn’t betray him, did I? It wasn’t my fault that he punched my back in that cave. It wasn’t my fault he took the tablet. I didn’t make a deal with Crowley. He did!”

“Dean…”

“I am still mad…but why do I feel guilty, huh? Why is that, Sammy?”

“Go inside and find out. We can’t stay outside here. That’s weird.”

Dean gaped at the door in front of him as if it would jump him right in the face at any moment. Then he nodded.

“I know. This ain’t get easier, does it?”

Sam made two steps around Dean and grabbed for the knob. Dean somehow seemed thankful that his little brother took the initiative and made a first step into the room.

Dean nearly froze again when he was finally inside. Sam only took a deep breathe and walked towards the bed Castiel was actually lying in. Dean tried hard to move. He somehow did but he went through the motions like a rusty robot.

Castiel, mighty angel of the lord was lying on the hospital bed. Tubes were everywhere stuck into his body. Painkillers and antibiotics as well as blood pumped inside the unusual pale body. A machine made sure his breathing was steady…the monitor showed a low but steady heart rate.

Dean hated the sounds of hospital machines. He hated the scent of antiseptic and clinical detergent.

He hated to see the angel being like this.

He hated most that none of this was caused by an accident…or a fight. That this was the result of free will. Wasn’t that great? How free will was supposed to be something good and pure and was twisted into to something that ended on a hospital bed?

Because this damn son of a bitch decided by his free will that he wasn’t worth it and that he could as well die? That Dean didn’t show him enough how much appreciated he was and that he had no place to go any more…so he could go forever?

A finger snap caught his attention. Sam had taken one of Castiel’s hand in his own and watched his brother intensively.

“We didn’t know it was so bad. We weren’t abel to prevent this.”

“Speak for yourself, Sam.” Dean wasn’t abel to look his brother in the eyes. Sam tilted his head, not looking away. But his gaze still was warm. At least Dean would talk.

“Why would you say that?”

Dean took a seat on the other chair in the room after he moved said chair to the other site of the bed. He exhaled.

“Do you remember when Cas came back from Purgatory that evening? When we were alone talking and you came in?”

“I guess so.”

“I had asked Cas to go back to heaven and sniff around a bit…to see what is up there, you know. But he totally lost it. I’d never seen him like that, Sam. He told me he couldn’t go up because if he would see what he’d done…he…”

Sam waited patiently for his brother to continue.

“Sam, he told me, that he would probably kill himself after really seing what he’d done. He looked my straight in the eyes, Sam and told me that he was devastated enough that he was close to end himself…that it needed only so much to push him over that verge.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing. You came in…he never really mentioned it again…I never really bothered to ask. I should have, huh? A great friend I am.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. It actually would have been nice to know about this earlier, but he did know why Dean hadn’t been able to talk about this. Talk about something makes it real. Makes you to have to deal with this. Not only with the emotions of the other person, but also with your own fears. In this case of loosing someone.

Again.

“How did you feel about him saying that?”

“What?”

“You did understand me.”

“I dunno. I was afraid, I think. The moment he looked at me...telling me he might actually kill himself…Sammy: it was as if he thought he had no value in this world. And when he later told me that he had wanted to stay in Purgatory for punishment…it somehow broke something inside of me. Why would he think of himself so low? Didn’t we tell him over and over that we wanted him in our life? Didn’t I tell him? Didn’t I show him?”

Sam shifted on his seat.

“Dean, it is not your fault that his self esteem is that low. That he tends to punish himself that much. Self love is nothing others can bring to us… it has to come from inside. You only can help someone by showing that you accept the person for who he is. That’s all.”

“Yeah…I did a pretty shitty job on that, too.”

“Lately…yes. Castiel isn’t used in all these feelings. In the host he never needed to love himself or forgive himself. He just was there to function in the way he was told. No questions, no doubt. It only is naturally that he doesn’t cope so well with that concept. He made some bad decisions…he thought he did the right thing but failed colossally and at the end hurt exactly those people he wanted to protect. I think he might need a win somehow. See that he can do something right. That he matters. But how to do that…I have no idea. He is very hard to convince. And we’re not the best role models on this too.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. He looked at the pale features of his friend. He remembered Cas when he met him in Purgatory. How there was no glow in his friends eyes. How he had to push and pull Castiel to go further. He had felt it, but hadn’t been able to let it surface let alone talk about it.

Castiel had been casted out of heaven for him. He had given up all he had known…all that his life was about…the big plan, his family, his kind…just for humanity…for the Winchesters…for him.  Dean thought about how he had failed in showing Cas how much all this was appreciated. How Cas had thought that to bring him out of Purgatory had only been an action of guild. Well…Dean had thought about it a thousand times and had come to terms with that this wasn’t the case.

He had needed Cas being in his life. Help him find a way. Trust him. Be part of his little family together with Sam.

He should tell Cas about this. Find out if the angel knew. Right now he only sat there beside the body wrapped in gauze and a light blanked and tubes all over him and watched him breathe in a steady rhythm.

He could not prevent Cas from doing as he pleased, but he could the hell show him that he was not only needed, but wanted.

 

* * *

 

Cas felt the bone break beneath his fists. Again and again.

“Do it, Castiel! Kill him!”

His world was a blur. It felt unreal. Where was he again? What was he doing? What was he holding?

“Cas…I…I need you….”

Who was talking to him? He stopped his motion. … _I need you_ …He was needed? Of course he was…he was a weapon. He was a soldier…a tool.

He was needed.

His vessel’s heart arched. This all felt so wrong. He didn’t want to do this!

“Kill him, Castiel!”

“I can’t…! “

_I don’t want to!_

Free will. Team free will. Dean. I was Dean’s scent in this place. The scent of his blood. He knew this scent too well. And there was the light pain again in his fist. His fist on Dean’s face. His hand grabbing a collar.

From one moment to the next Castiel snapped out of it. Snapped out of Naomis world. Snapped back into the cold world of free will. He looked down on the hunter kneeling before him.

Suddenly Naomi was beside Dean…the scene somehow froze. She smirked an awful smile and raised a hand to stroked dark blonde hair.

“He needs you, Castiel. Like we all do. Needs your strength, your power to fight. He will give you nothing. He only wants to take. You as well can stay with me instead. I also need you. I need you, Castiel!”

He shook his head and pushed his hands to his temples.

_I need you._

The scene shifted. He was in heaven. In the old heaven. The heaven full of angels. His body felt so free. Free from a meatsuite. Free from free will.

Raphael sat before him in a white chair. Castiel stood in front of him. Obedient. He was chosen to fulfill a great task. He felt honored that his skills were assessed capable to fulfill this difficult duty.

Raphael looked at him with nearly a friendly smile.

“I was told of your excellent skills. You are strong and faithful, aren’t you, Castiel?”

“Yes, Raphael.”

“You will be convoyed by a garrison to guide you down and back with the soul of the righteous man. The fight that awaits all of you will be devastating. Most of you will not make it back.”

“We are aware of that.”

“Very well. I know what your abilities are. I need them now more than ever, Soldier.”

“I will not disappoint you and your trust in me, nor will my garrison.”

“Sure you won’t. Whether you surface with the soul or die trying. I need you to give yourself to heaven, Castiel.”

“Don’t doubt me, Raphael.”

And he felt no doubt. No reason to do so. He would go down to hell, not matter what. To pull the soul of Dean Winchester out of the dark.

He felt that his faith was needed. His abilities were needed.

He was needed.  It didn’t matter what happened to him.

It didn’t matter back then.

But this time it felt different. He himself was of no importance. Only what he was able to give. Only his skill…only the things he as tool was able to do.

He felt honored and yet it touched something inside of him he didn’t knew it was there. He was sad. He felt belittled. He felt unworthy of love. Because he didn’t matter. He mustn’t feel that way…that was prideful. He should not be so proud…he didn’t deserve that. He was designed to be a tool. A soldier…a weapon….

Why did it hurt all of a sudden? Why did it hurt there wasn’t more?

Of course he would go down to rescue Dean Winchester…of course he would…but was it so wrong to have at least someone to wish for him to make it back in one piece?

Was that so wrong?

He began to fly up. Why up? He didn’t know. Wasn’t hell supposed to be downstairs? Why was he feeling like being pulled further up?

And why did he begin to feel more and more heavy by raising? His legs began to arch…his arms…his wings felt heavier with every beat. His head began to whirl and finally his abdomen began to burn like fire. It felt like his insides were ripped outside. He observed his pain and was shocked to find himself diving into it. Like he deserved it.

He didn’t deserve to have someone to feel warm for him. But he deserved the pain. He deserved to starve in Purgatory. He deserved to feel dropped by his friends. He deserved to feel alone.

Because he had no value. Nothing he did was helpful when it was done out of his own free will. He sucked at it. He had failed in whatever direction he had tried to go. With them, without them. The more he tried the more damage he caused.

He didn’t know how to end this. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He wanted peace. He was so tired of feeling worthless. He couldn’t go back to the host to make his feelings go away again…and he couldn’t make it live with them either.

He tried to scream. Why would nobody help him to end this? As he shifted his throat felt hoarse. And he as he tried to gulp he couldn’t. Something was blocking his vessel from doing so. He tried to breathe in his own pace but wasn’t able to. Air was forced into him against his will and he had to exhale when he didn’t want to.

He felt trapped. He was trapped in this meatsuite. He couldn’t move. There were noises he didn’t recognize and why the fuck was he not able to breathe properly?

A new sensation began to rise in his gut and there was the intensive urge to gag. He wanted to get rid of whatever was blocking his throat but he couldn’t. He wanted it so badly but wasn’t able to. The nervous feeling changed into something stronger.  He felt like he couldn’t breathe yet there was air forced into him. He began to panic.

 

* * *

 

“No one cares that you are broken, Cas!”

_I care. I am afraid to lose my brother. I am afraid to lose this world. Why don’t you help me?_

_Why am I so harsh?_

Castiel stood in front of him. Eyes all puppy and wearing his white hospital suite. White shoes. No tie, but his trench coat. Vulnerable.  Open.

Why did he punch him emotionally? Why did he transfer his own anger, his fear his helplessness to the angel? It wasn’t fair. Being like this the angel was defenseless. He couldn’t stop Dean from hurting him.

He would fly away in any instant. Dean knew it…because he had been there before.

But the angel didn’t. He simply stood before the hunter. All others around him were gone. Only Castiel and Dean.

Castiel’s face began to become wet. A single tear began to roll down his cheek. Then another. His yes bleed from tears. His blue orbs shouted devastation. The man began to shiver, to sob. He began to fall onto his knees. More tears melted with his face. His shoulders began to sack down. He became a crumpled picture of misery on the floor.

Yet Dean did nothing to comfort him.

_You didn’t mean it, fool. Tell him!_

Castiel’s abdomen began to become wet too. Every sob made his body tremble and emerge more hot red wet on his shirt.

“Cas, you’re bleeding.”

The angel looked up in Dean’s face. His tears had become blood. And not only his gut was bleeding from inside out…so did a spot where his heart was. His heart was bleeding.

“No one cares that you are broken, Cas!”

Why did he say it again? What was wrong with him?

The angel before him lowered his head, looking down the floor.

“I know,” was all Cas said before Dean felt his world shifting.

Noises made him look around. The trench-coat Castiel…the bleeding angel was gone. He heard alarming noises around him. Dean blinked and pryed his tired eyes open.

He remembered that they had come to visit Cas in the hospital. He had felt tired but wouldn’t let Sam to make him go out for a motel to sleep there. So he had stayed and obviously had fallen asleep with his head on the tip of the bed.

There was motion beneath the blanked and Castiel’s hands also moved.

From one second to the next Dean was awake. He stood up so fast that the chair fell to the floor with a loud thud. Dean searched for Cas’s face and saw the angels eyes white opened in shock. There was panic written all over his face. He made choking noises.

Dean knew what this was happening. He had been there too when he had been in hospital several times.

“Cas, buddy, you have to calm down! Everything is alright. Look at me! You’re intubated. Look at me!”

Cas wide eyes searched for the source of the words that had been spoken to him. He was so disoriented that he didn’t recognize the voice. He barely recognized what the voice was talking about.

“Castiel! Look.At.Me!”

Something grabbed for his face. Two hands on each side of his head. They directed his view to another face. A familiar face. Castiel tried to focus.

He knew that face. He knew it. Somehow he managed to focus on the green eyes that started at him worriedly. They sent something warm inside him. Did these eyes care?

He tried to stop moving.

“Good. Calm down. Don’t fight the breathing machine. If you do so it feels weird. We will get this thing out of you, ok?”

Castiel tried to nod. He didn’t know if he really did, but obviously Dean had seen it. The hunter gently rubbed some hair out of his eyes that had fallen there during his panic attack. The touch felt strange. His eyes might have told that because Dean pulled away slightly and mumbled a quite sorry.

Dean looked for the door. He waited for something. The monitor was going back to normal. The heartbeat calming down to a stead but stronger rhythm.

“Well, I will search for a nurse to come and put this thing out, ok?”

When Dean began to remove himself from the bed he was grabbed by the wrist. Castiel squeezed his arm and his face showed desperation.

“Ok? Shall I stay? We can push the button for the nurse to come.”

Another squeeze and slow shake.

“Cas…you need assistance with this.”

Squeeze.

“Ok. But don’t move. This will hurt a bit and is really unpleasant. I’ll pull it out, ok? Try not to gag just let me pull. Do nothing. You understand me?”

Dean began to take hold of the tube and with the other hand hold Castiels face down. He began to pull and the angel really worked hard on not to throw up instantly. Panic tried to raise again but he tried to blink it away. Dean’s voice again was talking to him: “Nearly done. Don’t get lost. Stay calm. Nearly…nearly….aaaand out.”

Castiel gasped for air and coughed right afterwards. His throat felt sore and hoarse and on fire and he really was thankful that this device was out of his shell.

A glass of water appeared in his sight. It was a feeding cup held by Dean.

“You should only drink a little sip first. It will hurt a bit, but it will help. Believe me. I’ve been there.”

Castiel thought he could try and sipped out of the cup with the help of the older Winchester.

After Dean had placed the Cup on the nightstand beside the bed he cleared his throat and tried to find a spot to look at but at Castiel. So did the angel.

But finally Dean started to speak again.

“Cas, you scared the hell outa us. Why…”

“Don’t.” Castiel stopped him right away. His eyes began to burn. Moisture began to fill the edges.

“Please! I didn’t meant to be so harsh the other day. I...I need you, Cas. We need you!”

If his throat hadn’t hurt like shit Castiel had begun to laugh. Of course he needed him. Everybody needed him. He was so tired of it. So tired of being needed.

“I can’t help you anymore. I’m no help for anybody anymore. Just leave and let me be. Please Dean…if the remains of our friendship mean anything to you…ever did…leave!”

“Cas…just heal yourself and come home with me. We can talk when you feel like it. OK?”

“No. Thank you for your help with the tube. Tell Sam, that I wish him the best, but I can’t go back with you. I have no home to go back to. I never had. I never will have. I rebelled…I made grave mistakes…I have to deal with the consequences now. And I will.”

“By committing suicide? That is not dealing, that is avoiding to face it. You’re better than that!”

Dean had raised his voice in anger. He was so mad at Castiel. Shouldn’t he pitty him? But he couldn’t. His anger was what kept him from falling down on his knees and breaking apart.

Castiel shifted his head to face the hunter with sad eyes.

“Dean, why did you say you need me?”

“What?”

“What do you need me for?”

“I…I…” Dean didn’t know how to answer that. Cas was family. He knew that.

“I cannot do this anymore. Raphael, Michael, Naomi, Crowley,you…you all need me in one way or another. I am so tired, Dean. I was able to be happy with fulfilling needs whole my life, when there was nothing but duty, but something changed when I began to be around humanity for too long too close. Now it eats me up…my essence…my powers…my will…there is nothing left. I can fulfill nothing anymore.”

“Cas,, please…don’t do this to me!”

“It’s not your fault, Dean. I knew what the risk was when I came too close to my charges. Angels are not supposed to feel that much. Now I know why. We’re not made for this. It eats us up. Free will works for humans…it is a gift my father gave to you. But not for me, Dean. There is nothing but pain in it. I wished the leviathans had killed me back in Purgatory. I wished you and Sam had found out earlier about me and Crowley…and had killed me. But it didn’t happen that way. The only thing good I helped with was avoiding the apocalypse and rescue you from hell. Everything after that was a mess. I cannot go back to heaven and have Naomi make me kill people I care for…I cannot go ahead finding  new home either, for I am too different to all the others on this planet. I’m all alone in a dark place. It is dark and there is no light for me. I am broken, Dean. A broken tool…useless for anyone around me.”

Dean wanted to say that Castiel was a fool to talk like that. That he and Sam didn’t only care for his use. That not everything had been bad…that there was plenty of light. That he would hate it to never speak to him again…that he liked hit when they just hung around to watch some TV or had a nice talk in the impala. When Sam and Cas went all Nerd about some bible stuff he never heard about. But he couldn’t speak. There was a lump inside his throat that precluded him from bringing the right words out.

Something deep inside of him wanted to get angry again. Because that idiot in front of him didn’t recognize his feelings and that he cared. That Sam cared too. What more would he be forced to do to show? Couldn’t Cas simply get it? Why did he hurt him by saying that there was no light? That the world was only a dark place for him now? That hurt. That sucked.

Being the man his father raised him to be Dean was about to just stand up and leave the room. But something stopped him to do so. He remembered when he felt like Castiel more than once. As if nothing made sense. As if nobody cared. And no matter what people had told him…he wouldn’t believe it. He knew this dark place. He knew this bitch very well.

And he knew that there were two kinds of love for somebody. The first was a taking one. Sucking away the life force to feed the own wellbeing only, but the second one was a giving one. When giving to somebody not took away energy but increased it in both sides.

But the second one was hard to find and at the beginning it was hard to go to the giving process because it hurt like hell. And the way was longer…and rougher. And there was no comfort on the first stage.

Go out…being angry with Castiel..feeling helpless and let it all go was the easy way. But at the end, Dean knew this for sure, it would not only cost him a friend…it also would destroy a part of himself. It also would destroy Cas.

He took a very deep breath…very, very deep. He gulped down his anger…he would deal with it later. Find the real source of it and punch the origin and not Cas for triggering it. He thought about what he really wanted.

He wanted to be around Cas and the other way around. He wanted him back home. Back in the family. Together with him and Sam: And he wanted hell, heaven and whoever alse to let him the fuck alone. But for this he needed to be strong now.

He stood up and arranged the chair back beside the bed.

“OK. Cas. I will leave. For now. But two things. You will tell Sam all this yourself. I am not your messenger. And second: I will come again tomorrow. Also the day after tomorrow…and the day after that as long as you’re here. When you leave, I will find out your new place and be there too. You don’t have to talk to me, but I will be there. Because that is what I fucking want to do. And don’t think about flying away again. I will find you. I will waste a lot of time for this. So if you don’t want to be a burden…just don’t go puff…so that I find you more easily. And if it comes to my knowledge that you try to harm yourself again I will sure as hell kidnap and angeltrap you until you come to your senses. I cannot give you light though…that you have to do yourself.”

With that Dean left the room with a pretty baffled angel remaining inside. On his way out Dean told the nurses that he removed the tube, what made them really pissed…and told them to observe his “brother” very closely because he didn’t know if he might try to harm himself again. He would be back later and he also gave the hospital his other phone-number.

When he was outside the sun was already rising and the day was about to break. He fumbled for his phone and called Sam to come to the hospital to catch him. They had to figure out something because going back to a mental hospital was nothing that would work for the angel. He wasn’t some delusional lunatic with a guild complex but a celestial being with thousands of years in his pocket and the very real guild of having killed hundreds of his own kind and the nearly disintegration of the whole planet. Dean guessed that there was no training for psychologists to handle things like that.

He had to find a way to give Cas light. Even if only a little. He knew it would not only lead to the redemption of the angel if he was able to do this, but it could possibly heal something inside of him too.

He had trailed away with his thoughts so much, that he wondered how long he had been standing there when he heard the rumble of the Impala coming closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please give me some feedback about my use of the english language. I find it very hard to describe proberly in english sometimes. How bad or good is it?


	3. Do you want to die?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is still in hospital and Dean had left a few hours ago.
> 
> And as the doctor told them: a counselor comes to see him...and talk.
> 
> What good will that do to him? Will he be able to open for help...what is it Cas really wants?
> 
>  
> 
> We also see Sam in his first conversation with Cas. I love the chemestry between them .
> 
>  
> 
> And above all there is the question that comes up in every therapy: What do you really want for yourself.
> 
> Seems easy to answer...but for depressive people it isn't. Selfcare can be a bitch....and to gank that bitch there is hard work to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long. For this story I have to be in the mood and I was sketching and painting a lot in the last days. 
> 
> I hope you like it...I hope it is enough comfort in this chapter. There will be more, but I don't want to become unrealistic fast in the recovery.   
> I want to work a bit on the relationsships and how to get more abilities of self care. 
> 
> I am still very needy for feedback on this story. As well in context as in language itself. I really want to improve and hope my english doesn't suck completly. I give my best...but find mistakes after every reading.

Castiel knew he would not need to sleep any more. As damaged as his shell was, after he had passed out, and obviously was put together by the human surgeons, his grace was about to keep him awake.

He didn’t let it speed up the healing process though. He didn’t want to give this to himself. The pain remained him he still was there.

Not that this was a good thing really. He would have loved to pass out once again because every wake moment only waited with more torturous thoughts of his terrible existence.

While he tried to distract himself looking out of his window he heard a gentle knock on the door.

There had only a few hours past since Dean had left the hospital. The nurses already had been coming  to look for him and explaining everything that was going to happen with him in the next days. The human doctor had been there too and Castiel didn’t expect anybody else to visit him this day.

Hopefully some demons had found him and were about to burst through that door to kill him. But that was too much to ask for.

The door opened slowly and the head of a young woman peeked into the room cautiously. When she saw Castiel being awake she came in and closed the door behind her. She smiled a shy smile and walked towards the bed.

“Good Morning, Mister Winchester, I am Mrs. Winker,” she offered him her hand to shake it. Castiel  looked at her suspiciously, but took the hand.

“You’re not a nurse, are you?” he asked.

“Well, no. I’m the hospital counselor. I’m actually here to talk to you a bit. Know you better and if you are willing to: talk about what brought you here.”

Her glare was mild and open.  She seemed to be a friendly person. Somehow Castiel didn’t bring himself to just shout her out of the room to let him the hell alone. It wasn’t her fault that she was sent to talk to him. The doctor had explained to him, that this would happen and the outcome of their conversations would be an important part of the decision what’d happen to him next.

Not that the humans would be able to hold him here any longer, if he didn’t want to. But actually he was too tired of running away and he had no place to go to anyway. So…he could as well stay and talk to the nice lady for a while. What bad could that bring to him?

He laid back in the bed and rested his head against the oversized pillow.

“So. What do you want to talk about first, Mrs. Winker?”

She grabbed herself a chair and set down beside the bed. She took out a note-pad and a pen and placed both items on her lap.

“Will you write down what we talk about, so the doctor can read it?”

She looked at him and he couldn’t quite guess what she was thinking about his question. She tilted her head a little.

“Would you not like the doctor to hear, what we’re talking about?”

Would he?

“Well, I don’t think so. But you didn’t answer my question yet.”

“No. If I take notes they are just for me to read. To remind me what we talked about. And to note me some details I surely would forget for I’m terrible at remembering numbers and names and such. So…do you mind, if I take notes?”

“No.”

“Do you mind, if I call you Castiel?”

“No. I’d actually prefer that anyway.” He didn’t know what the Winchesters had have in mind when they registered him with their name. It hurt to hear it…and to read it…and to think about why they probably did it. His throat felt like being constricted by an invisible force and he began to feel hot from the inside out. His breathing began to quicken and he lost track of time somehow.

All of a sudden he felt a warm hand on his arm and a soothing voice beside his face: “Castiel. Come back here. You’re safe here. Everything will be alright.”

He snapped back into the room. How long had he been gone?

“Do you want to tell me where you’ve been?”

“I was here in this room with you.”

“Ok.”

“You seem disappointed about my answer. Did I upset you?”

“No. Why do you think, you’d upset me?”

Castiel sighed and looked out of the window again, then back to her: “I just have a talent to do so.”

“Why would you think that?”

Could he really tell her? Of course not! She wouldn’t understand. She was just a human girl. Merely a child. She couldn’t be older than 32. How could any human ever understand his pain? His loss? His failure? His crimes? How utterly useless he was?

“I made mistakes.” He simply told her. More he could not say.

“Hhm…I see. So did I. So did everyone. Mistakes are necessary for the process of development, don’t you think?”

“Mine didn’t help develop anything. Believe me!”

“But they changed something within you, didn’t they?”

She had no idea.

“Pretty much so.”

“And not for the better?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Why?”

He began to feel annoyed by her questions. Was she just being stupid, or did she want to anger him?

“I destroyed things. Things you cannot imagine. I devastated everything I knew for something I didn’t understand. Something I wasn’t capable of. And then I made choices again…for the first time in my life…and they all hurt someone. Me included.”

“You think you never made choices before?”

How could she understand that? She never could!

Mrs. Winker began to write down some short notes on her pad. He couldn’t read what she was writing about. How could she forget something about such a short conversation?

“Yes. I never did.”

“So…this is something quite difficult to learn… and you managed to make choices though?”

“That killed people!” He felt anger. He was so angry with her. Why kept she asking these things? Why wouldn’t she stop it?

And obviously she wasn’t done: “As I see it: you developed something quite difficult to accomplish: free choice is difficult.”

“I did the wrong ones!” His stomach began to turn. He felt hot anger growing more and more. He wished to hurt her somehow. But he wouldn’t do it. He wanted to get rid of her. Get rid of that feeling too.

Two hands laid down on his and only at that moment he recognized that he had begun to scratch his wrist heavily. Bloody stripes showed and there was blood under his nails.  She held his hands still to stop him from hurting himself and looked him in the eyes. There was no anger on her side. No fear…no misunderstanding. She wasn’t sending any of this. She just looked in his eyes as if to make sure he did understand, that she was here for him. To take what he was about to give.

“To learn about choice is not the same as doing things that come out right. It takes bravery to make choices. To move out of the comfort zone and walk new lands. That is something very difficult. And of course it is accompanied with struggle in the outcome. But nevertheless it is a great step in a personal development and you can allow yourself to be proud on that. And you can allow yourself to forgive yourself your mistakes. It is way more easy to punch yourself and call you a looser, than to do the opposite. But you can learn it,  if you’d like to.”

“I doubt that.”

“Do you want to be unhappy, Castiel?”

“I want,…I…I want this feeling to stop. I just….I…want it…stop…” tears welled up in his eyes and she squeezed his hands gently. A nice smile appeared on her face.

“Do you want to die, Castiel?”

“I want it to stop.”

“And if there was a way to stop it without running away? Without taking your life to silence it? Would you try that way?”

Castiel looked in her eyes. Did he want to die? Or did he only want to stop that terrible feeling inside of him that was eating him alive? That was making him feel like the shadow on a wall…and if ever light was close to him…he would disappear into nothingness?

Did he really want to die?

_Another way._

“I…I don’t think…”

“I don’t ask you if you believe it will work on you…I just want to know if you’re willing to try.”

“Will I became useful again?”

She raised, grabbed her pad and looked at him wisely: “That it not the point. This is not about making you useful again, Castiel. This is just about you. What YOU need for yourself. What your own feelings are about…and when you finally will be able to take good care of yourself…then, if you, and only you decide it, you can help others as well. And better even so, if that is really important to you.”

“But that will not protect me or others from the wrong decisions I will surely make.”

“No. But you will able to accept them as a part of you without feeling like you do now. The hardest part in therapy is to accept, that the coping mechanism, that lead you in the present, failed and begin break you apart. The second hardest is to search for the reason why the mechanisms were invented in the first place and how that triggers your present life. The third is to learn about your own needs and take good care of them. The most people fail at that at some point in their life. But to do that is nothing others can give you. You cannot force other to be nice…or the world to be a better place…but you can brace yourself to be strong enough to bear it and stay in one piece.

To learn that I can offer you.”

He didn’t want to die.

“I don’t want to die.”

“I am very happy to hear that. This was a very good first step. A good talk and it is nice to meet you. I will come back tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

She left with a happy smile. He had been harsh at some points but she hadn’t answered his bad feelings. She just had kept track on what she was willing to show him.

It was better than talking to Dean. He had always to look out for Dean’s feelings. Because he hurt him with what he said. Because of that he had never really talked to one of the brothers about how bad he was feeling. He knew they would have been worried and he couldn’t bear that.

But talking to someone he didn’t have to care for…perhaps that could work somehow.

He felt tired. Very tired. How long had the counselor been in his room? He couldn’t tell.  But it felt as if they had spoken for hours. He felt an exhaustion that was completely new to him.

It was deep inside his head. As if his soul…or in his case his grace was somehow sore. Sore from all the scratching and touching and poking. But he somehow had the impression that he needed to feel that way. No destination could be reached without effort. And his will to just run away was still somehow strong deep inside his head. So he guessed that the effort to keep that at bay and to walk against it should be pretty immense too.

He had been strong once. Perhaps he could try to remember how to be strong. How to walk forward.

But after a short rest. He really felt heavy. Perhaps he would pass out.

He’d like that.

 

* * *

 

Sam stood in front of Castiel’s door. It was the second day after they had brought him here. It was his first real visit. Last time Cas had been asleep. Dean had decided that it probably would be better if only one brother would visit each day. They didn’t want Cas to overstrain himself with too much emotional challenge from too many directions.

A short ‘Come in’ was the answer to his knocking on the door.

“Hello, Sam.” Castiel said. He was sitting upright in his bed. Patiently waiting for Sam to come closer.

“Uhm…I didn’t know if you need some distraction and so I brought you some books from the library.  I thought of bringing you a computer too but didn’t think this would be a good idea somehow.”

“Books are fine. Thank you, Sam.”

“So…may I take a seat?”

“You may.”

“Cool.” Castiel always had been a man of short answers to stupid questions, but this time Sam felt not very comfortable with it. He really was totally unsure of what to say and what not to say.

“So…my brother was being a jerk again so that you had to throw him out yesterday?”

“Maybe I overreacted. I didn’t mean to be harsh. I apologize for that.”

“You don’t have to. I know how he can be when he worries. He can be…I don’t know…I feel the urge to punch him right in the face sometimes.”

Castiel looked at Sam surprised. He didn’t know that Sam was feeling like that. But he did know exactly what the younger brother was talking about.

“You know…I worry about you too, but…I don’t want you to think about it. I just want you to know that I care what happens to you. I really do.”

“Why, Sam? Why would you? After all I did to you?”

“Well,…we’re family. And family cares for each other. No matter how much of a Jerk any member might be sometimes.”

“You don’t have to feel obligated because of anything.”

Sam looked at him baffled and straightened his back. Then he told him very clearly: “I don’t feel obligated. I like you as a friend. And maybe more.”

“More?”

“Like a brother. Like family. Like someone I really don’t want to see stabbing himself in a field. That way.” Sam’s voiced had risen a little, but he calmed down as fast as he could muster.

“Cas…I am sorry.  I’m not angry at you. I am angry at myself for not noticing how bad you were feeling. And that I never asked about you. For that I apologize.”

Castiel stayed quiet for some seconds. He tried to make out what he was feeling. Tried to figure out what he wanted others to feel about him. What could be a place he would feel safe at.  Talking to Sam was much different to every conversation with his brother. Sam was more conscious about his words…about the reactions of his opponent speaker…and he gave away more from himself. That was comforting somehow, because he made himself a lot more vulnerable and so gave others the chance to trust him.

He actually liked talking to Sam most of the time. It often reminded him of his conversations with Balthazar.  A short pain shot through his system.

Balthazar…what good had it done to the other angel to be friends with him? He had killed him. When his friend had tried to warn him, he had killed him. And the other had been right. Balthazar had known. He had known his friend too well. Had known that Cas had made the wrong decision. If he only had listened to him!....

“Cas! Stop that!”

His wrist was bleeding again. He couldn’t remember he did that. Had he scratched again? The pain was somehow soothing. Should it feel that way?

“I will call for a nurse to patch that up.”

“No, Sam it’s just..:”

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me. We will get this fixed.”

Cas only watched Sam pushing the button to call the nurse.

“Are you seeing the counselor today?”

“She said she would come, yes.”

“But will you talk to her?”

“I’ll try.”

“Man, if you don’t talk to her, how will you…I mean…what? You will?” Sam had began to speak eagerly and maybe a bit angry again and obviously had not really heard what Castiel had said.

“Yes. I will try.” The angel repeated quietly but firm.

Sam was totally calm now and smiling very fondly. He really seemed to be happy.

“That was easier than I thought it would be. I never got Dean to see a therapist at all. Like never. Not after hell…or me in hell…or you know…ever.”

“Your brother can be quit stubborn when it comes to his feelings.”

“Yeah. That nailed it right on the point. He’s a dork with feelings. With his own…and as well with the feelings of others.”

“I got aware of that.”

A short chuckling noise escaped Sam’s throat. “I bet you do.”

“So…will you promise me to try not to do something…inconsiderate again…not to harm yourself?”

Castiel searched for his injured wrist and looked down sadly.

“As I said…I’ll try. But I will not promise anything I might not be able to hold.”

“Trying is enough for me. If it is enough for you, ok? I just want you to know, that we need you back in the bunker…”

“You need me…” Cas’ gaze was empty from one second to the next.  Sam got aware of that immediately. And at this second he was again way smarter than his brother.

“Cas…we need you to be happy again. Or be actually happy for the first time in your life, maybe. We…I really need to see that you get up at some point, ok? It pains me to see you like that.”

“ I don’t know if I ever can be useful again, Sam.”

“That is not the point.”

Cas  blinked at Sam. What did he just say?

“That was never the point.”

 

The door was opened by a nurse and Sam gave the surprised Cas a last short hug before he left the room.

 

* * *

 

 “I thought we wanted to rotate with the visits?”

“Yeah…you know…screw that.”

“I don’t think that is a good idea, Dean.”

“I don’t care. I have to talk to him.”

“I told you he’s fine. According to the circumstances.”

“I love you, Sammy, but I’ve to see it myself. And we didn’t part on best terms yesterday…and I’m  going up the walls here already.”

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

“The hell I am. I will not screw this again, Sam. I’ll fix this.”

Dean turned to walk out of the motel room, when he was grabbed by Sam’s big hands to hold him back. Dean glared daggers at his younger but gigantic brother.

“You have to be careful. He is on the edge. I’ve seen this many times. There is merely a hush needed to put him over. You don’t want that.  You have to keep your own feelings at bay for the next time.”

“What do you mean?”

“He can’t handle any of our worries right now. He will suck them in like a sponge. Also all anger...if it is meant for him or not. And with you it always was special anyway. Your bond is…deeper. You have to be even more careful.”

“I can be sensitive, Sam.”

“Well, don’t forget it when you’re there. For once…ONCE…at least pretend that you care for him as person only.”

Dean turned around to face his brother and even took a big step closer. Sam was way higher as he was and it was difficult to stare someone in the eye from down under.

“What do you want to say? Straight forward, Sam! Tell me!”

“Exactly this is what I mean. You are angry. But not at me…or even Cas…you’re angry at yourself, and you cannot put this on him, Dean. You mostly called him because you needed him…even for me it sometimes seemed as if you only want him around when he can be useful to us. That is what we hunters do. We don’t get stuck with normal people who cannot fight…who cannot help us…who are a burden in a fight. To help Cas you have to get rid of that! Or you’ll lose him. We both will.”

“And what am I supposed to do, Dr. phil.? Cuddle him? Bring him a Teddy bear and tell him everything is fine? Because it isn’t! It is far from that!”

“I know. But think for yourself…and if your answer is wrong here you should stop visiting him at all: Why are you worried for him? Are you worried for the tool he can be…or for him as person?”

Dean stepped back. There it was again: Tool. Why would they keep telling him that he ever wanted to feel Cas like being one? He never did! Did he?

“Dean! He will ask that question again, and again to make sure he is wanted…to give himself a reason to keep going. So if you go there….you’ll better be prepared to think of some reason for him that he doesn’t feel like a mindless soldier or a weapon…or a tool, but as a member of our family. Question yourself: IF he never would be able to fight again for whatever reasons: would you still want him to be around? Be part of our family?”

Dean walked out of the door. The voice of his brother still in his mind. What did he want? What did he feel about his friend? Why did he want him to stay?

He tried to think of the reasons. Tried to think of different futures. How their family could be. What he would like. He had some pictures in mind that he thought Castiel would like as well.

And he thought about what he really wanted for the angel. Did he just wish him to recover to full strength again? To have as much mojo back as possible? Or what was it that he wished for his friend to happen?

He walked outside the motel. He passed the Impala and went on walking. He passed the Gas station and walked and walked. He needed to be clear about this. He needed to focus on what he wanted for Cas. So he could give earnest answers to the angel….or never meet him again.

Sam was right. Sam was always right about things like this. He was a smart bastard at all. Probably had learned about this psycho stuff in the university. Or just read too many damn books.

But luckily one of them had done.

It took Dean three hours to get his head clear. Three hours of walking outside…accompanied by the fading light of the day. As he stood again in front of the little shabby motel he and his brother were residing in, he had come to an decision.

He knew it now was too late to visit Cas at this day, but that was for the better. Sam had been right again about that too.

He would visit his friend tomorrow. And he would be prepared to whatever question Cas had. And he also would be prepared for not to let his temper to lead the situation.

He could do this!

He had to!


	4. How the wales sing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has his second apointment with his therapist. Will he begin to understand what journey lies before him?
> 
> Dean visits again. And he comes prepared. And somehow it leads to talk about the songs wales sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the readers that follow ( Yeah...there are people following a story of mine...i am so happy!):  
> I am so sorry it took me so long to continue.
> 
> And I have questions I would like you to answer at the end of this short chapter:
> 
> This would be a good ending...but I am bad at ending things...so...if you'd like to read more in this AU...I would continure with the story. And maybe write another one after this one is finished in a good way.
> 
> I take suggestions.
> 
> And a little spoiler: there might be a certain absent father be present in the next chapter idea.
> 
> I also want you to know, if it would disturb you to add a Destiel or Sastiel tasting chapter at the end ( not smut level...just emotional or nice). I just don't know what the characters do sometimes. I only see while writing it and sometimes they do something I didn't expect. But I don't want to loose those of you who are totally not into such. So...I just need you to step up if you don't like if it might float in that direction.
> 
> But that will never be the center of the story. That is and will be Cas and his emotions. I want him to be loved so badly. Not only by others...but by himself. To see that happen is really important to me.

Castiel had tried to pretend, that he had been hungry, so that the nurses won’t get susbicous. But he hadn’t needed the food. Even in his weakened state his grace still kept his body floated with whatever form of energy the cells in his system needed to function properly. Even despite the fact that he didn’t allow his grace to help heal his wounds the angelic way.

He needed the thrumming pain in his gut to remind him, that he was alive. That he was still there. And to prevent him from drifting apart into a cloud of loose thoughts and floating spaces of emptiness.

To bring this breakfast, tasting like molecules and made without any love or affection, down had been difficult for him. A part of him had the urge to puke it out instantly. To free his body from this unwanted substance. He didn’t like the taste…or the feeling of his stomach that he had when it began to digest the meal into it’s pieces to feed it into his vessels system.

He wondered if humans felt it the same way he did and with that how on earth they could enjoy to eat at all.

A knock at the door made him look up.

A young woman brought her head inside and looked at him fondly. He recognized her face and tried to give her a warm smile. Mrs.Winkler closed the door behind her and took a place on the chair beside his bed.

“How are you today, Castiel?” she asked. She smiled at him. It was a mild smile that didn’t charge him in the wrong way. He somehow had the feeling, that even if he didn’t answer at all, she would still smile at him. But their talk had been so good yesterday and he wanted to show her, that he was willing to try whatever she wanted to offer him. So he answered:

“Thank you. I’m fine. According the circumstances.”

“I see. If you had to label it…on a scale, let’s say from 0 to 10, and ten is fine, where would you put yourself in? I only ask you because I don’t know you very well and I can’t understand on what level you consider yourself as miserable, if you define yourself as “fine” like you are now.”

“I find it hard to settle myself anywhere in such a scale.”

“Why do you think is that so?” Castiel somehow had the feeling that she did know exactly, what the answer would be. But he couldn’t guess.

“I don’t know. If I say 8…it would seem as if I never feel well at all…and I cannot imagine what I should look like at the point of 1 then. But if I tell you it’d be a two…then I had lied by saying I was fine.”

“Did you lie?” Again she didn’t seem angry ba asking him that question. How could she think of him lying to her and not be angry at him? He knew situations like that from the brothers too well. Dean always was furious if he discovered that he had been lied to. Castiel was unsure what to answer. He thought that to tell her that could not make anything worse:

“I don’t know what to answer you to that. I think I didn’t get the question right. I think that you are trying to find something else and you used the question for my wellbeing to get there.”

She huffed a small laugh and looked at him.

“You are smart. I should be more subtle next time. But you’re right. I wanted to know how you feel, but also your answer gave me the opportunity to continue the session at the point we stopped the last time.”

“How so?” Castiel didn’t quite understand it. He tried to. He recalled every word she had said…and what he had said…and still he didn’t get it.

“Do you know what self-care is, Castiel?”

“Of course I do understand what that is.”

“I’d think that you know the term. Want I want to know is: did you ever practice it? Like on yourself?”

“I don’t understand that question.” He answered slightly puzzled. He really had no idea what she wanted to show him. Or, according to that matter, what she wanted him to tell her.

“Self-care needs some steps, remember? First you SEE, how you really are. Then you find out what you NEED to feel good or better. Then you MAKE a step to make it come true. To reach the last step and get better you first have to manage the first one.”

“Your question….”

“Exactly. This is not easy, Castiel. I don’t want you to answer me something like you feel I could be pleased, or how I wish you to feel. Of course I would be happy, if you’re better. But it is ok if you’re not. If someone really asks you about how you feel, it is in the responsibility of said person to accept your answer. It is not yours to please someone with your answer or your wellbeing. Do you understand, what I want to tell you?”

“I think I begin to understand, but…”

“No. I will be very severe about this. Because you are not. But I’m not here to push you. Try to focus inside. Really. Know, that what makes me happy most is, if you will be able to really feel how you are. Whatever condition that may be. And then try to answer my question again: How. Are. You?”

He looked at her. It somehow felt, like the time was slowing down. She didn’t move. Not away, not closer. She just waited for him to reach inside and truly feel. But somehow he didn’t want to. He knew what pain waited inside of him. That there was no happy place left at this moment in his eternal life. That he felt wasted. Destroyed. Lonely. Useless. Bare. Sore.  

“I…I don’t feel fine. I think.” He was surprised by his own answer.

“How “not fine”?”

“Like. Bad. I feel empty. I’m lonely. I lost my faith…my hope. I don’t remember if I ever felt happy. Like really happy. I can’t remember. Why can’t I remember how to feel happy? I think I wasn’t meant to feel like that. I feel heavy. So heavy. And tired. It is all so tiring. Thinking is tiring. Pretending is tiring. Trying is tiring…”it began to sputter out of him. He couldn’t stop it once it had started. His chest began to tighten. To breath became tiring too. Like a heavy stone that was dropped on him. I became heavier and heavier with each feeling that he was grabbing and shoving  to the topside. Shouldn’t he feel better after bringing them up? He didn’t understand why this was making everything worse. The emotions didn’t feel like being “out of his system”. They felt like pushing him down to the floor. Harder and deeper every second.

“Castiel, stop! Focus on my breathing and just breathe. In…out…in…out:” Mrs.Winkler soothed him. He had began to hyperventilate. His fingers and arms began to prickle and feld numb. Black spots danced in his vision. He tried to find that nice human woman’s voice and follow her.

Since when had he become such an excuse for an angel? Pathetic! His vessel didn’t even need the oxygen like a human body normally would. Why did the lack of it bother him so much?

“…In….out…In…there you are again….in…out…good…” she touched his arm and he also could feel her cold hand at the skin of his cheek.

“I’d like…not to repeat that unpleasant experience. I don’t feel better.”

“That’s not what happens in the first step, Castiel. The first step is very difficult for someone who’s emotions are buried that deep inside. For someone who’s not used in looking at them but putting them away, lock the door and throw away the key.”

She watched him breathing in sympathy. Also she showed a first sign of concern, when she began to nibble at her lip.

“Do you like to tell my why you had to close away your feelings so tightly? What happened to you that made you learn to do that? Maybe it would help to speak about that.”

Castiel closed his eyes. He knew it could possibly help to lift his weight to speak about it…but he couldn’t tell the nice woman that he was a billions of  years old soldier, who’s only purpose in life was to serve heaven. To follow orders and never to question them. That every attempt of doing otherwise….question heavens orders or doubt in any way, had caused severe consequences. That his brothers had began to haunt him, kick him out of his family and look down at him like he was a mean creature, an abomination. That he lost everything he had been, he knew and that he had no idea how to define himself without beholders to watch on his existence and SEE him. Without someone telling him he’d done the right thing…that he was valuable…he simply felt like he didn’t exist at all.

“I cannot tell you that. I’m sorry. It was something in the family. I was raised in a very…strict family. And than I disobeyed…and then…I fell apart. I thought I was strong enough. I tried to focus my faith on something else…someone else…but it didn’t help. Not at all.”

“Perhaps that was a mistake.”

“What? You think I shouldn’t have disobeyed, even if it was for the right reason?” He had to tell himself, that she had no idea, that in that case the apocalypse had happened. How could she know or only try to understand what had been on stake!

“No. I don’t mean that. If you disagreed with your family’s decisions for good reasons, and it felt like doing the right thing…it probable was. What I mean is: it is not healthy to jump from one system into another. To make yourself dependent to someone or something. Sometimes you should use your faith and perhaps put it in yourself. How does that sound?”

“Ridiculous. How can I have faith in myself? That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

The therapist took his hand into hers and looked at him very intensively: “I don’t know what your family did to you to make you think that way. But it isn’t true. To make good decisions…to get along with free will and the chance to make mistakes…needs faith in the own person. It is somehow the very core of it. The day you start to try it you will see, that you develop other feelings than only  the dark ones you just made visible…those who put you to the ground like a weight. But you have to lead the way for them! It is in your hands to ignite this flame in your heart that shows the strong and bright emotions the way into your consciousness. But I warn you: Even to have something nice can feel strange and unwanted for someone who only knows the darkness. The light can be too bright at first. But you’ll learn to like it.”

“What if I cannot stand it? What if it…burns my eyes out?” He gulped. He doubted that she knew why. What the pure light of his existence could do.

“There is only one way to find out. How much worse can it become?”

“You could go…and Sam could go…and Dean…” he couldn’t continue. The thought that what he might become could scare the brothers away, build a lump in his throat.

“I will not go. And I think that your brothers will not leave you as well. They know what you’ve been through, right? They know about the darkness inside of you, don’t they? How could the light scare them away?”

“You have no idea what my light might do to them...”

She watched him irritated. The last sentence had not really been meant for her to hear or react. And for Castiel’s sake…she didn’t ask about it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dean stopped outside the room and tried to convince himself to go inside. He knew he could do this. He knew Sam had not been wrong with everything he’d said. So he knew he had to be super cautious with the angel on the other side of that door.

“Dean, how long are you going to stand there and not come in?” A muffled voices could be heard through the door. Damn angel senses! He just had to play over this. He could do this! He opened the door and stepped inside.

“Sammy told me you had a doctor’s appointment this morning?”

“I had.”

  1. Cas wouldn’t make this go easy. Dean could see that. Well. He hadn’t it expected to go easy. When did it ever?



“Good. I brought you some real food. I’ve been in hospitals often enough to know the food sucks.”

Castiel dipped his head to one side and looked at Dean inquisitively. The hunter showed him the bag from the burger store close to the motel with a wide grin on his face. Castiel seemed a bit lost.

“You know I don’t require food, Dean. Why did you bring it?”

“I remembered you…well… Jimmy…loved meat. And Burgers. A lot! And so I thought I might try this as a conciliation offering.”

“A what? What are you talking about, Dean?”

“Look…I know I’ve not been the best friend…or at least a decent one. And it was not fair to speak so harsh to you yesterday…or the day you left the bunker…or most of the times before. Well…I thought we could try to restart our relationship. Sort of.”

“Restart?” Castiel raised an eyebrow and looked at Dean as if he suddenly had grown a second head. Dean tried his best to ignore it and began to unpack the food he’d brought. One burger he laid on the fold-table beside Castiel’s bed. The other he began to unfurl for himself. The smell of the meat at once began to fill the room. The angel eyed his burger suspiciously.

“How does one “restart”, he even put the double quotes with his fingers moving, “ a relationship? And why do you want to do that anyway. What is wrong with the one we have already?”

_EVERYTHING,_ Dean thought bitterly _._ He bite in his burger and chewed visibly. Castiel still didn’t touch his food. When he had gulped down his first bite Dean looked at his friend as open minded as possible. He tried to remember what Cas knew about friendship. Besides camaraderie in war like he had with Balthazar or Anna. What did he possibly know from his former life about having a friend just for no reason at all. Just for the fun of it. Just because the other person was nice of funny as shit? He had to start this like…like from the very beginning. Like talking to ET, or something. Or like explaining it to Spock. That was something he could work with. He was Kirk in that metaphor and Cas was the stubborn Vulcan friend who didn’t know a damn about human feelings.

Maybe Gene Rodenberry had befriended an angel before imaging Spock? That would totally make sense to Dean now. Castiel was the most “alien”-like creature he knew.

But back from Star Trek to Castiel watching him. Waiting.

“Well. Stop me if I’m wrong here, but even you can see that something is off between us. Obviously you don’t feel like you can tell me how you are or that you can really trust me. Or that I respect your decisions in whatever matter. And I have this feeling that you really believe that you only are to me what your abilities can do. And that is wrong, Cas. What about we try to start our friendship as if nothing of all that had happened. Hell, Purgatory…”

“The tablet?” Castiel’s voice sounded sarcastic. Like he didn’t believe any of the words Dean was saying.

“Yes. The tablet as well. I don’t say we really should forget about all this for real, but at this moment we could pretend we see each other for the first time and find out, what our friendship can be about…besides heavenly wars, apocalypses and whatever supernatural shit happens to us. How does that sound?”

“Confusing.  How can I pretend not to know you? Because I do. I…I don’t know if I can do this. Or if I want to.”

“How would you learn more about someone you’re interested in being friends with?”

“I don’t know. I never did.”

“How did you learn more about Sam?”

“I…already knew about Sam.”

This was going to be a loooong day…

“What does he like to eat?”

“What you call rabbit food….what’s the point about what Sam likes to eat?” Castiel didn’t seem sure whether to be annoyed or baffled about the obvious nonsense Dean was talking about.

“How do you know? Did heaven tell you that?”

“Of course not! His diet was none of our business and absolutely not of interest.”

“Any yet you know it.”

“Because I watched him and talked to him. I know a lot of things now I didn’t before I met him. Because I asked.”

“And that is how you start a normal friendship, Cas. We talk. We ask...and with “we” I mean mostly myself…and we get to know about each other from the ground to the top. That’s how humans do friendship. Well...it was the last time I tried…”

A deep sigh was all Cas had to say about that. It didn’t sound so ridiculous at all in the end. As his therapist had put it: what was he about to lose? Could it get any worse? And Dean wanted to know more about him. That was probably a good thing, right? The only problem might be, that he might not have good answers to some questions because he simply had no idea what he really liked or disliked sometimes.  

But he would cross that bridge when they reached it.

Absently he began to reach for his burger and tried to take a bite. It did not taste like Jimmy had liked it. Or the way he was able to taste things when he was closer to being human. But there was something in the taste he could like. Perhaps it was because he knew Dean had brought it to bring him some joy. Because Dean looked so satisfied eating it. Castiel carefully looked at Dean while eating his own burger. He tried to dive into the experience without expectation. And he totally forgot to focus on what his stomach was doing with the substance he just had eaten. He tried to mentally stay outside his body with his attention point on Dean.

They sat there quietly,  just savoring this moment of eating together. Dean was the first to speak again:

“So. Let’s do this formal. Nice to meet you. My name is Dean Winchester. I’m a hunter, a big brother, the Michael sword by cosmic planning and a really big fan of Rock.”

With wide eyes Castiel fumbled with his fingers. He had no idea what to say to introduce himself differently than he had when he first had met Dean. He concentrated really hard and started:

“Hello. Nice to meet you, Dean Winchester. My name is Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord. I’m…I was a soldier of heaven. I have thousands of brothers. I…I have no idea what to add to that…!”

Castiel had known he would fail. Again. He began to feel uneasy and fumbled with his fingers even more.  Dean just smiled at him.

“That sounds really interesting. What music do you like?”

**_What?_ **

“Music? I …I have no idea…I think…”

He really had no idea. I tried to think about it. He tried to remember all the music he had heard and if he had liked it. What was about the music Dean loved…or Sam’s?

“I like some of the music you listen to. But not the aggressive songs. I don’t like aggressive sounds. I like smooth sounds. Like the humming of bees. Like wales singing in the ocean. Like that…I think.”

“I didn’t imagine that. Have you ever heard a wale singing for real? Like in the ocean for real and not on TV?”

“I have. They are very gentle creatures. Their songs are also their language. They float not only in their surroundings,  they also do in their emotions. Most of the time their minds are rather peaceful. That shows in their singing. It reminds me of the peaceful times in heaven. Very long ago. When fa…God was still in the process of creation. It was so wonderful to watch things grow together…systems to develop. It all floated into each other and bonded on all planes. It was…I cannot describe it in human language.”

Dean leaned forward. A soft expression in his face. His eyes were shimmering. Castiel didn’t know why. The hunter probed his chin on one of his hands looked at his friend in awe.

“I try to imagine you there. And how it began. Tell me how it looked like!”

“I told you I can’t. The human language…”

“Then tell me in your language.”

“You wouldn’t understand a single word of it.”

“I will just listen to you and the feelings you transport. Go on! Try it!”

And Castiel began to talk to Dean in Enochian. His tongue build the words of his youth and the words of the universe. He described how the light came into the universe and how it had looked like. The colors and the feelings and how he was created. How his first impression had been and what he had seen. How he had looked at his own body and how it had been to feel the energy that was send to its parts. How the planes had began to build…how the universe began to sing.

The often so rough sounding angelic language began to whirl around Dean in a symphony of rhythms and audible shades. He closed his eyes and for the first time he tried to imagine Cas like the being he was. Like this energy that was swimming in the universe in awe for the wonders it had to show. How pure he had been.

A single tear rolled down his cheek while he listened to his friend for the first time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no beta reader and look over the text myself as good as my skills allow it. If you find mistakes that are severe...or the gramma is really shitty ...tell me. I try to improve my english skills on such matters!


	5. The inspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one. Cas is angry...Chuck is...well...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh...I couldn't stop so I added this short chapter today. 
> 
> I always liked Chuck. And I totally understand him. I do.  
> But I always was so sad that even in the Amara Arc Castiel, the one angel that had faith like hell, sorry, never had a chance to speakt with his father. That was not fair. 
> 
> So i fixed this. 
> 
> More comfort to come. But as those of you who had been at this point in their life too...healing is a long process. And it is difficult. And it hurts like fuck.  
> But it is worth every step.

* * *

 

Dean stayed for the rest of the day. Castiel could not remember to ever have talked to the older hunter in the way they had done it today.  Dean had been right. It was different.

No questions out of need, or because someone had to know about him to plan a fight or a war. He could not deny that it had felt pleasant in a way he hadn’t known. It was the first time he didn’t fear the night.

In a hospital, that much he had discovered, it was very quit at night. Barely people walking, and even less talking. It was unnerving sometimes. In his times as a soldier, before emotions had rolled over him like a train, he had found the silence pleasant. But today he feared it, because there was no noise to distract his thoughts from wandering places in his mind he wasn’t ready to conquer yet.

Though he didn’t need to sleep very much, he closed his eyes in the night nonetheless.

As long as the self inflicted wound, that he had caused with an angelic weapon, drained his vessel that much, he actually needed at least some hours of real sleep.

A noise in the room startled him for a second. He hadn’t moved. He was sure about that. But it had sounded like the ruffle of clothes. And it had been close. He somehow was afraid to open his eyes. Something inside of him told him to stay quiet and pretend to sleep.

But there was that noise again. Even louder. Nobody had entered the room. Castiel was totally sure about that. Or had he been out for some time and simply not noticed?

A sigh, soft and mild made him hold his breath. Someone was in his room and it sounded like said person was sitting in the chair that was standing beside his bed. The same chair Dean had been occupying the whole day. Had Dean come back?

The person did not feel like being Dean. Not at all. Castiel tried to capture the person with his high end senses, but he couldn’t get it.

“It would be easier just to open your eyes, don’t you think?”

Castiel knew that voice. He knew it so well.

_I must be dreaming_ , he thought. Because there is no way this is real in any way.

“Why would you think that?”

_Because He would never come to see me…let alone talk to me._

“Well. Just because I haven’t doesn’t mean I cannot change that. At the end…I am the Alpha and the Omega. It is on me to decide what I want to do.”

“You have no right.”

_You have no right to talk to me like that._

“As it seems most of my children are angry with me. For different reasons. But though I tend to feel hurt. Maybe a bit angry.”

“You speak of feeling hurt? You? What on this earth, or on any other, could possibly hurt you? You didn’t give a damn about your children in the last thousand years. The first present you gave your favorite son was the Mark that destroyed his grace. You abandoned us because “you could not bear to see us doing everything wrong any longer. I might not know how to define the father of the millennium, but it ain’t you.”

“Huh. I cannot remember that you ever spoke to me like that, Castiel.”

“That might be because you never spoke to me at all?”

Castiel was done with this shit. He opened his eyes and looked in the familiar face of Chuck. A face God for some mysterious reason had obviously chosen to wear while walking the earth as drunken fake-prophet. He should have known.

“That is not true. I reached out to you. Don’t think, that you’re not important to me.”

“Well…as Dean would put it: you have a lousy way to show your affection. But I’m only a little Seraph…a soldier. Why would you bother with someone like me? I totally understand that.”

Chuck managed to look hurt. He shifted in his seat. His legs were crossed and he had put his fingertips together like some boss in a mafia movie.

“You know that I don’t really like people talking to me like that?”

“Like I care anymore. I needed you, father! I prayed! I searched! I asked for you to help me find the right decisions. And you never bothered to answer! Never. Not a little sign. Not a huff in this universe. Nothing. Look what I’ve done! Look what I’ve become.”

“And what is that, my shield?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“But it’s your name. The name I called into the dark when I created you into to the light. It is what you are. It always was.”

“A shield I am? A tool for you? A tool in your colorful toolbox called heaven. I had faith. For so long! I tried to stay on the path I thought you’d created for humanity. I tried so much. But when the time had come to fail…you didn’t bother to help me!”

Chuck raised from his seat. His brows were furrowed angrily: “I raised you, Castiel. More than one time. I brought you back to earth. How is that not helping?”

“You really want to tell me you did that for me? Don’t you dare! You did it for yourself. For the precious righteous man you had chosen. I was the tool to protect him. Because no other angel was willing to do it like I did. And because of that you had to build me up anew. Put me together, set your pawn back on the board.”

“Castiel…”

“No! I’m so angry with you! I’m disappointed! I am devastated because you abandoned me when I needed you the most!  Even Eve did care about her children and made her way from purgatory to earth because they had cried for her! At least she loved her creations.”

Castiel had begun to shout at Chuck. He couldn’t stop though he knew how much God liked to be shouted at. He knew that every second the being in front of him might lift a finger and vaporize him into thousand pieces. But he truly didn’t care about that. At least his suffering would end at such a moment. And he would know, that he had shouted out all the feelings he had for his “father”.

Chuck wandered towards the dark window that brought light from outside into Castiel’s room. He simply stood there looking outside. His hands folded behind his back. After some minutes of silence he turned to look in his son’s eyes.

“It makes me sad that you feel so lonely, my son. And I’m sorry that you think I didn’t or don’t care for you. Because I do. I gave you all I had. All that you needed to have and what you need to be. And because you were exactly that, you were the angel to protect Dean and Sam Winchester. No other angels can ever do that.”

“Like I said. The perfect fitting tool.”

Chuck leaned back against the cool window. He seemed troubled.

“I don’t know how I can explain it to you, so you get it in that stubborn head of yours. You always had been special. But not in the way you think.”

“Yeah,” Castiel hissed,” Naomi told me so. I always was…like I had “a crack”. I am so happy that you cared for your disabled son so much.”

“You were never disabled. You just were different. And the other angels wouldn’t understand it. In some way your brothers and sisters never will be able to. You are perfect…like every part of my creation. Just different.”

“This is great. Dad. Will we hug now? Will I feel happy that you love me the twisted way I am and call me perfect?”

“Your sarcasm is misplaced, son.”

“Phff.” Castiel had never felt so rebellious. Well, he already had rebelled against heaven. What more could go wrong to yell at the God of all creation himself. He had done worse.

Chuck closed the distance between himself and his angel and took a seat on the bedside. Castiel didn’t dare to kick him out. That much respect for his creator was too deep written in his very being. He never would touch God without permission. Not that he wanted it.

“Castiel. You are one of the last angels I created, you know that?”

“The others never missed a opportunity to tell me that.”

“I didn’t plan to create something like humanity on this planet. It was a good world. Like all the others. You saw it. You remember, right? How beautiful earth was when young?”

“I remember”, Castiel whispered sadly.

“I can tell I got bored when I had created the angels. After a time you seek for new stuff, you know. Something different. Something exciting. Well, that was before I created you. I played a bit with ideas, actually.”

“Played around?”

“Don’t look at me like that! Yes…I tried to shift something in the matrix I had for the angels. But I couldn’t quite figure out what I really wanted to come out of it. And…well…this playing around had somehow been you.”

“So I’m a experiment that went wrong? That is just great. Now I feel better.”

“I’m not finished, SON! As I wanted to tell you, after you interrupted so impolitely, you were half way to find out, what I wanted to do. What I really wanted to do. I watched you. Watched you growing and how you looked at the world. How you were different to the others. What made you different…and after some years…I knew what I wanted to create next.”

Castiel didn’t knew all that. He never had thought god had only safed one look for him. That he had actually paid attention to what he had done somehow shocked him.

“You want to tell me what that was I inspired you to create?”

_Don’t say Leviathan or something like that._

“Levia…Castiel, please! No, you dork! It was free the idea of free will, of souls! Of beings that walk their path without my intervention at all. Own decisions. A consciousness. I was so excited! You were my inspiration to invent humanity with a free will. Your mind was somehow a step between the angelic essence and their souls. It took me a while to find out the fine-tuning, but I was so proud when I finished the first soul. And that was thanks to you.”

_What?_

“Did I stutter, Castiel?”

No. He hadn’t stuttered. Not at all.

“I’m so sorry that it made it so difficult to be with the other angels. I was so occupied with my new creation…it never occurred to me that the angels would sense that you were different…and that they wouldn’t accept it.”

“Not accept? I was tortured and “reeducated” more times than I remember! I had to try so much more than all the others. All I had to do in your name made me feel so bad. All the suffering I had to cause! I felt so bad and there was not one brother I could talk about it! Not one could really understand why I felt so different! Not even myself. I began to believe that I was somehow broken or just wrong. When They asked who would go to hell to rescue Dean I stepped up, because I thought I had to proof myself even more! How could you let that happen?”

“Because at that point I saw, that that was the destination of your life from the beginning. No other angel would ever be able to understand human feelings and why it is so important to treasure free will. To treasure humanity with all it’s goods and it’s darks. Only you could. But to learn that you had to walk their ways which means to suffer. To suffer…to fall and to raise again. I wish I had been able to spare you that, but I couldn’t. Because you needed that to understand that part of you. You needed this pain. And now you need to stop falling.”

“Stop falling? How much deeper could I fall?” Castiel felt tired. His eyes began to drop.

“Let the pain go and look for the light. Look for that sparkle I set in the world.  Something angels forgot to notice. But you didn’t. Be what I created you to be. Create your own free will. Free yourself from what the other angels made you think you’d have to be. Just be what I made you for.”

“And, “ Castiel began to yawn. God, was he tired,” what would that be?”

“Just be the wonderful being I made you be. Just that. And then do what you think is right.”

_I don’t know what you want me to be._

**I WANT YOU TO BE.**

**JUST BE.**

 

* * *

 

 

There was nobody in his room when Castiel woke up from his dream. He was covered in sweat and his ears felt like he had been in a hurricane.  He looked in the room and switched his light on. He was unsure what to make out of this.

Had he be dreaming? Hallucinating about his absent father and his wish to be loved? That God paid attention?

And why on earth Chuck? He would have to investigate on the prophet closely later. In a twisted way it totally would make sense if God would hide inside such an idiotic vessel, because nobody would search for him inside of Chuck Sherley.

But perhaps God had paid attention for real and had spoken to Castiel for the first time in his life. Perhaps he could himself allow to believe that what Chuck had said was true. That he was made different, but in a good way. That it was his purpose to exactly be like that.

He wanted to believe that. Because it could mean that he might not have failed in the things he’d done in the past years. That it had been his path to try and to fail…for just to learn how to chose. He knew that humans failed along their ways all time. And that they thought it was part of their experience and their growing.

Would it be so wrong to believe that he had the same rights? To try his best…but to fail? That this never meant that he was wrong, but that he was growing?

 

**I FORGOT SOMETHING. I WILL HELP YOU HEAL YOURSELF FASTER. BECAUSE…LOOK HOW YOU TREATED THE WONDERFUL BODY I CHOSE FOR YOU! WHAT A SHAME! AND IF YOU EVER TRY A STUNT LIKE THAT AGAIN I WILL COME FOR YOU IN MY HOLY AND COMPLETE GRACE AND PUT YOU OVER MY KNEE LIKE A KID AND SLAP YOU REAR UNTIL YOU BEG ME TO STOP AND PROMISE NEVER TO EVEN THINK OF THAT AGAIN! CAPICE?**

 

A shiver ran down his spine and he sat bolt upright in his bed. A part of him was not as badass bold as he had been in his dream. Deep inside something shivered and he felt a strange shame for speaking to his father like he had done it. Speaking to the creator of the universe like a child with a tantrum.

A warm sensation filled his abdomen and he knew, that the doctors would be surprised the next day. Because his wound would look better than anticipated. Way better.

He had to be cautious not to heal himself all the way through after the fatherly push inside his body.

And he had to think what to tell his doctors. Because he really wanted to get better. But not in this hospital.

He wanted to go home.


	6. Because I'm strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter:  
> Castiel is discharged from the hospital. Toghether with Dean and Sam he goes back to the bunker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it took me so long to add the last chapter.   
> I wrote to many codas when my emotions where going wild with the end of season 14! It was a wild ride. Then I had art work to do...but finally I finished this.
> 
> The last chapter is not as long. It is to give me and you closure.
> 
> If requested I could write some more storys in this Coda-AU.   
> But be warned...it might end with some Destiel.
> 
> While waiting for Season 15 to be aired I will try to finish some of my open storys. I started so many...and now I've the time to contiue.

* * *

 

“I still think we should see each other once in a while, Castiel. You made a progress, but it will be more difficult when you are out there again. Where the real life takes place. When you get in distress. But that you want to go home with your family is a very good sign.”

The psychologist watched her patient closely and with a warm smile. Then she nodded and left the room. When she opened the door to enter the corridor, two relieved looking men were waiting outside with a wheelchair standing between them.

“Mrs. Wrinkler. Nice to see you. How is he?”

She watched the two men. She couldn’t imagine what it was that she felt to be between them. How to call this vibe, this emotion, because there surely was more to their relationship than Castiel had told her in their sessions. But she couldn’t point a finger on it. Nonetheless she somehow had a good feeling about it though she didn’t know why.

“You will take good care of him, won’t you?”

Dean locked eyes with her and nodded. She believed him.

“You bet on that, Miss,” he told her in a serious tone.

“He has still a long way to go, Mr. Winchester. It was a dark place he’d been in. And to get out of that it takes more than a few weeks of rest. Life won’t go so easy in the future. He is a good man. He deserves better than to feel like that. He has to do the work himself to see that, but you can help him not to forget.”

“I know. I will make sure he’ll not forget about that again.”

“That’d be nice. But don’t do it all alone. He still should see a professional regularly.”

“He will.”

“Good.”

 

With that she vanished into the crowed that filled the busy corridors of the hospital. Dean watched after her silently. In his gut there was a sour feeling of tension building up. Could he really be what Castiel needed him to be to get out of this depression? Wouldn’t it be better to let him get treated by professionals a bit more. Perhaps just a few weeks.

_No,_ Dean thought _, he wants to go home. I will not let him down again._

“You want to stand there all day, Dean,” Sam asked his brother sympathetically. Of course his moose of a brother had picked up on this doubts. Little shit was to smart for his own good. Dean wasn’t able to hide his feelings from his brother too well. But perhaps it was something good for once. He knew, he wasn’t alone in this. At the end, Castiel was Sam’s friend too and they would be able to got through this together.

They entered the room and Dean’s world stopped to move for a few seconds. Castiel was sitting on his bed, obviously waiting for the brothers already. He ogled at the wheelchair with a questioning expression on his face.

Dean had no idea why he somehow had expected Castiel to wear his Trenchcoat. He knew that old thing probably still was stained in blood and probably gone for good. But Castiel somehow looked nearly naked sitting there without it. Smaller. More human.

“I’m healed enough to walk on my own, Sam. But thank you for…”

But Sam was only grinning at the puzzled looking angel.

“Hospital rules. Everyone has to be wheeled out.”

Cas watched Sam doubtfully and then he said: “I never saw Dean or you “wheeling” out of a hospital before, Sam.”

“Well, we’re not the best examples of following rules exactly. You have a bag or something?”

Castiel shook his head. “No. It’s just me.” 

Why Dean could not forget about that dam Coat was a mystery to himself. And he tried to sound as casually as possible while asking: “ What’s with your old clothes? They stored them somewhere? We can take them back with us and…”

“No.”

Cas’s voice sounded hollow and weak. Dean could swear he saw a dark shadow creeping over his features. After a few awkward seconds Castiel let out his breath in a long and shallow sigh.

“I told them to litter them.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other warily. They knew that there was a meaning for Cas by doing that. Both of the brothers hoped that it was a good one.

“I need to leave some of my past behind to be able to walk forward again. Maybe it’s stupid but somehow the gesture of giving away what felt like a uniform for me for so long…it felt like a symbol for me that I am able to let go. Is that a stupid thing to think?”

Probably Castiel was right. Why Dean felt like loosing something too, he had no idea. But this was one of the moments Cas needed him to help him get his feelings right. To assure him. But Sam, sensing his struggle, jumped right into it like the good friend he was:

“It is a sign of strength to be able to let go. And if you feel like it helps you, you did great.”

Castiel actually brought up a slight smile to that.

“Thanks, Sam.”

Dean cleared his throat audibly and pushed the wheelchair closer to the bed. Castiel still seemed to think that it was stupid to sit in that chair while leaving this house, but he obeyed to the strange human custom. Even if it felt utterly ridiculous to him.

“Let’s get out of here. I hate hospitals.” Dean tried to lighten the mood by nearly singing his words into the air. With a swing he wheeled the chair around and he and Sammy began to head for the exit.

Outside Castiel nearly jumped out of the stupid thing and together they walked towards the parking lot, where Baby was waiting for their arrival already. Castiel outride grinned when the car came into his sight.

“I really missed her.”

Dean didn’t know what came over him when he said: “She missed you too, y’know?”

The giggle Sam let out after this was punished with an dark glare from Dean and when Cas went for one of the backdoors, Sam stopped him.

“Invalids get to sit shotgun, Cas.”

Cas raised his eyebrow.

“Another human custom I wasn’t aware of?”

“Get in the damn car already you idiots,” Dean yelled, already sitting in the driver’s seat, ready to push the pedal and leave this hellhole already.

Sam and Castiel both chuckled and Dean thought, that after all, there perhaps was chance for them to leave some of this shit behind and start anew.

 

* * *

 

 

When Castiel went down the stairs of the bunker he breathed in the moldy air that always reminded every guest that this was place with a clothed air system and lots of old and dusty stuff in it.

He didn’t know if humans in general were fond of such a smell, but he somehow was. Like the smell of oil and leather, it reminded him of family and friendship. He breathed in as deep as possible and let the air out again after a few seconds. Dean had arrived beside him and watched him silently.

Dean lead the way down the stair and went past the war table heading straight for the bedroom section. Castiel followed him curiously. He clearly had the feeling that Dean wanted him to come along and Sam followed suit without saying a word.

They passed Sam and Dean’s rooms and went straight for one of the unoccupied rooms on the same floor. Castiel waited for Dean to tell him about the reason they had stopped here.

Wordlessly Dean opened the door to the room and switched on the light.

Castiel’s eyes went big as he watched the room and slowly walked inside and looked around.

The furniture was cleaned and there was a cozy looking bed standing at one wall. A nightstand with one of the green lampshade lights, a cupboard and a desk with pictures in frames on it. Also a little T on one wall and what looked like some of the books out of the library. In the middle of the bed, on top of the sheets there was a stuffed animal sporting yellow and black colors. Castiel went straight for it and picked it up. One corner of his lips rose in surprise and joy.

“A bee?”

Dean was fifty shades of red from cheek to his ear-tips. It had appeardd like a good idea at the time. He had found the stuffed animal while looking for other stuff to put into Castiel’s new room…and somehow the bee had reminded him of Castiel.

“Yeah. When you were crazy as shit…talking like a grinning idiot about bees and how you like them…I thought this might be a nice addition to let this more look like an individual  room for you. If you think it’s silly, you can just through it…”

“It’s perfect.” Castiel still smiled and for the first time in months, he seemed genuinely happy.

Dean tried his best to ignore his brother’s feisty grin behind him, which he could feel he was sporting right at that second. He would deal with Sam later. Now, he walked to the cupboard and opened it. Inside were clothes Castiel had no idea where they came from.

The bee still embraced he stepped closer to have a look at what Dean wanted to show him.

“Here are some old shirts from me and some trousers. I don’t know your size. We had to guess, so they might not fight perfectly. Just try ‘em on later. Also some pullovers and in case it gets cold and a new jacket. Underwear and socks right here if you need them. I know you can mojo your clothes clean, but Perhaps you like to change once in a while. And a new fed suit…in case…you want to go on hunts with us some time again.”

Castiel stared at the content of the closet in front of him. Then slowly he turned around to look around in the room. He took in every detail, every smell, every shadow.

He noticed the pictures on the desk. One was some shot from a Movie night. A selfie Dean had made when Cas hadn’t paid attention to him but to the movie. Sam had made some ridiculous gesture with his two fingers behind the head of the angel. They later had explained the gesture was meant to resemble bunny-ears to make fun of someone in a fondly way.

Humans sometimes were such strange creatures, Castiel thought while smiling.

And there also was a picture of Sam and Dean and Bobby in front of Baby.

A warm feeling spread inside his body and this time it had nothing to do with warm blood oozing out of him or grace burning up.

It was a feeling he had missed for a long time. He even could not remember, if he’d ever felt it this way in his former life with the host.

It was a feeling of being welcome.

Maybe of being at home even.

Was this what the brothers were trying to tell him with decorating a room for him? Giving it bits and pieces of himself that made him feel happy? That made him feel like someone being loved?

He wanted to ask them. But he wasn’t able to bring the words out. With the warm feeling there also was knot building up in his throat and his eyes began to feel hot and stinging.

A hand, gently brought down on his shoulder and holding it just enough to feel reassuring, but not claiming, grounded his emotional turmoil. Breath he hadn’t recognized he’d been holding slowly floated out of his lungs.

“I know we didn’t tell you this before, but we want to make up for this now. We want this to be your home, y’know. You and me and Sam. Together as family. We’ll  deal with this tablet issue and whatever comes across after that.”

Sam stepped closer and his hand joined Dean’s on the other side of Castiel’s shoulders. He smiled assuring, his eyes warm.

“That’s right. We’re strong as family and we will stick together. Team Free Will. Right, Cas?”

“I’d like that.”

They stayed for this for minutes. Nobody wanted to move and burst that strange bubble that had built up between them.

But eventually they had to move. Dean was hungry and there still was Crowly and the tablet to be dealt with.

With a clap of hands Dean switched the mood from content to rumble:

“Who’s hungry? I need some meat and then I’ll look for some therapist for Cas to make an appointment and Sam, you gather what we have on the tablet and what the fuck Crowly wants to do with it!”

 

Team Free Will was together again and Castiel knew, even if things would not be a milk run in the future: he would be able to handle it. Because he was strong. Because he was a warrior.

 

Because he had family.


End file.
